


Jörmungandr's Chosen

by Download077



Series: Child of Jörmungandr [2]
Category: Overlord - Maruyama Kugane & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Lemon, Love, Self-Indulgent, Smut, Sporadic Updates, What Ifs, one shots, ongoing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2019-10-26 19:05:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 52,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17751719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Download077/pseuds/Download077
Summary: You are made up of your own free will. The only rules you abide by are those you place upon yourself. Here is but a glimpse of what may or may not have happened should you have chosen different.

A collection of One shots, what if's, and side stories from Child of Jörmungandr.





	1. No greater love Act one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This what if takes place during chapter 17 of Child of Jörmungandr.

* * *

  
**✨ Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ Collection of One shots, what ifs, and side stories set in the Child of Jörmungandr universe~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

# 

**✨ Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ No _greater_ love ~

Act one

* * *

 

 

 

She stands resplendent in her glory. Her laughter carries the song of her unmatched strength as she dances upon a collection of smoldering ash. She twirls like a ballerina with her palm splayed up to the sky, consumed with a smile that could bring about the end of a nation.

Which is what Shalltear Bloodfallen has accomplished. Even though the Bloody Valkyrie is depleted of her magic points? The sky congratulates her victory with a shower of cold rain that turns the guild leader of Ainz Ooal Gown into sludge below her dancing feet. Carelessly, with a flick of her wrist, she skips away from her fallen leader. She is quite secure in the knowledge that she has _won_. Shalltear is the one to stand triumphant against all odds as thunder rolls across the darkened sky. Shalltear's heart leaps as her eyes ignite a hellish red with the knowledge that her supreme being was in fact not so supreme.

She was like unto an almighty god with this power.

_Her power._

Shalltear's victory is short lived as she is stolen once more, freezing mid twirl in celebration. Downfall of Castle and Country binds her again in invisible chains until such a time that a fool is ready to challenge her. Here she will remain pacified as a marionette with no master, marking the cataclysm of true death.

Shalltear's last thoughts were that it was the height of arrogance to challenge her.

 

 

* * *

 

The pinnacle of your demise hangs in a mocking picture of the battlefield. The mirror of remote viewing ripples with the sight of a coming storm as Momonga blows wistfully through Shalltear's prancing feet. Your best friend drifts away as a fleeting thought, small grains of sand mixed with smouldering ash as he fades into nothing.

All the guardians respectively felt it when the Supreme Beings abandoned Nazarick, deleting their player characters to never again return.

What they had never experienced was the weight of ones death.

_This is not happening; This is not real._

The entirety of the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick stands still, hanging somewhere between the crushing weight of losing its high lord and registering its new successor. The very walls of the tomb seem to swell with a desperate gasp of air in the realization. The ringing in your ears makes it sound like Nazarick is howling an end scream directed solely at you.

"Y-You can bring him back!" Albedo calls out to you. Her voice is muffled, you can barely hear her as Nazarick continues to roar inside you, soaking your mind with its grief as she continues. "Bring him back! You are a supreme being, you can resurrect Lord Ainz!"

"I-I..I don't know _how,_ " You whisper as you use what little you have left to look up to her. You press your lips together, chewing on a sliver of torn skin. Albedo's eyes widen as her features begin to blur. Tears fill your eyes. The shouting in your head nets you somewhere between numb and nauseous.

"The staff of Ainz Ooal Gown! U-Use it!" Albedo matches the shrieking tone of Nazarick in your mind. Only now, she is so much louder as she grasps your hands, tears splashing upon your armor like freshly fired bullet casings.

The edges of your vision are creeping forward. Tunnel vision. Albedo consumes the rest of your sight. She looks like a melting oil painting..

"I...I-I can't." Is all you can say. She is now just a mixture of white, gold, and black as your own tears fill your eyes in understanding what has happened.

_Momonga is going to [Message] you any minute. This is just a test. Right?  
_

"You have to do something!" Albedo wails, and soon all you can see is her raven hair and golden eyes. You shake your head as her hands grip your wide pauldrons, fingers scratching into your armor.

_She's too beautiful to cry this way._

Your seating shifts with the audible whine of cold steam escaping from Cocytus. You fall back into his seat as Albedo follows, landing you in a collection of Cocytus's diamond dust. Albedo climbs on top of you, her body weight a welcomed warm against the onslaught of frost slipping from Cocytus as he too, bends over you. You want to hold her and never let go.

"Please, Please! I-I love him, Lady Holly!" Her fingers dig into your cheeks as she cups your face, tears splashing into your eyes. The room lights up with [Tears of Jörmungandr] as you lay under her, rasping.

"I-I love him too." Because you do. Not in the romantic sense that she does, but Momonga has been your friend, unto like a brother to you for the last four years.

"W-What. Are. Your. Orders. Lady. Holly?" Cocytus's voice scrapes like rusted gears grinding upon each other, his brash tone choking as he tries to stand as the Knight of Nifelheim that Lord Takemikazuchi designed him to be.

You close your eyes with a whimper as Albedo's tears sting with an all too familiar salt. Golden tears stream down your face. Choking. Sobbing. Your eyes flicker open as Albedo removes her hands from you, _why is she leaving_ , and it's then you see her hand forced as Demiurge hisses.

"Due to your inconceivable idiocy she is all we have left! Remove yourself from her Albedo, at once!" Your chest grows tight as Albedo is hauled off by Demiurge, his lips peeled back exposing his fangs and the taught pink of his gums. His claws hook through her hair as she falls limp, her knee banging against the wooden table before you. She does nothing in response but to sink lower, her hip wings drooping as she hugs herself and weeps.

_You should have let Demiurge go and support him._

_This is all your fault._

Your chest aches with the dull pangs of your heart, and as you try to swallow your throat feels caked cement. Your tears are spent. They have stolen any and all relief. You lick your dried lips, wincing as that tiny flay of skin rips.

 With a gasp you slap your hand against your chest piece. Fingers drag and scratch as they rakes against the sapphires of Remembrance of Oak. All you can hope for is that someone will take this damn thing off. You feel like you can not breathe, and for a moment, you wonder if you even are breathing.

_Momonga hasn't used [Message] yet._

_Is...is he actually gone?_

You roll your head to the side, eyes glazing over the mirror of remote viewing. This effort alone sends a storm of pain in the form of electricity stabbing the back of your eyes. You would yelp, but the sound catches in your throat. Gurgling. You want to vomit.

The permanent, undeniable fact that Momonga is gone scorches itself into you the longer you stare at Shalltear in her barren desert of victory. She is the headstone upon Momonga's grave in mockery of his failure. Your failure.

The room closes in on you. More sobbing. You squeeze your eyes shut just to try to make it all go the fuck away. This isn't happening. Nazarick screams red in your mind. The sound strikes around your skull. Oh god, make it stop, Please...

Momonga said he was not going to die.

He had a plan. He _always_ wins.

He always logins in. Every day without fail.

He is coming back, he is only taking a break.

He is just at work.

"Lady. Holly...What. Do. We. Do?" Cocytus kneels, his mandibles level with your head. He sets his halberd down as his heavy body blocks the view of Shalltear.

You mouth _I don't know_ weakly towards him. You do not know what to do.

Every ounce of conviction within you has slipped away like coins through sewer grates. You did not think he would actually... _die._

_He can't be dead._

Was he scared?

_You should have been there._

What were his last thoughts?

_This is all your fault._

Could he be back on earth?

_You failed him._

What will you do without him?

_Nothing. Because you are useless._

 

* * *

 

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	2. No greater love Act two

**✨ Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ No _greater_ love ~

Act two

* * *

 

 

 

 

Cocytus remains knelt before you as you press your forehead into his. His smooth carapace is a temporary antidote to your breaking heart. The fifth floor guardians passive is normally something you try to avoid, but at the moment, the fluttering of hoarfrost is soothing.

Your head is pounding, your brain punching forward between your eyes. The thundering pressure building in your skull is dulled by how cool Cocytus feels against your face. You keep your eyes closed as he breathes, fearful that if you open them this all might actually be real.

_This isn't real._

Your hands tremble over his mandibles as you brush against them, fingers scraping his tempered jaw. That is right, just focus on him. Momonga is not dead, and Demiurge has not been pacing back and forth burning his foot steps into the carpet as he chastises Albedo.

This is not Albedo's fault...

_This is all my fault.  
_

Cocytus is the only one that can hear you whispering, sobbing softly that you are sorry. So fucking sorry.

_This can't be happening._

In response to your hushed weeping his mouth parts vibrate, and for a moment Cocytus sounds like the low hum of your car back in the old world. Those late nights driving home when the engine would stall were once memories that frustrated you. Now? It is a distraction, and there is a part of you that wishes you were stuck back at a red light hunched over your steering wheel rather than being here.

Momonga would still be alive if you two had not have stayed logged in to Yggdrasil.

You should have convinced him to log out! He had work at 4am that day. It would have been easy. Just a simple, _'Hey man, get some sleep. Logging out now instead of being force ejected in five minutes won't make a difference.'_

Instead you did nothing.

Just as you did earlier. _Nothing._

Your lungs tighten the longer you stay this close to Cocytus. Breathing around him burns your throat, and your chest cavity feels like it's bloated with of shards of glass. Breaking away from his peaceful coddling feels wrong to you, that moving away from him is treason. If you could you would remain forehead to forehead with him indefinitely.

You fill your lungs as his frost cuts deep into your body. Fragments, tiny slivers of glacial quartz, flow in to try and fill your heart with something other than this fucking pain. It is all he can do to try and be here for you at this moment as his mandibles gently press into your touches. It is with great reluctance that you coax him away from you, patting the crown of his head as you lean back.

_I'm so sorry._

"....Thank you Cocytus." You tremble as you sigh, your head nestling into the comfortable plush backrest of your seat. You run the worn leather of your gauntlets over your forehead, fingering strands of hair out of your face.

"Lady. Holly....What. Can. I. Do?" You shake your head as he speaks, his words pulling on the corners of your lips as if his thumbs were in your mouth and tugging down.

"I don't know, I don't know." You seethe, clenching your teeth through a shabby breathe. You do not know. You at least owe them your honesty, the wretched and utterly grievous truth that you do not know and you are sorry.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

You are unsure if you are awake or asleep. It is quite possible you are somewhere in between as the spot beside you is taken. First, you feel their hand as it presses beside you and into the couch. Second, is that the individual takes their seat gently, as if they were being entirely too mindful of your presence.

Because they were.

"Lady Holly." Your brows pinch together as Demiurge whispers your name. You nod without opening your eyes as you feel him shift his body weight to face you.

Here it comes. You would brace yourself, but your spine feels as if it has been liquefied. Your emotional defenses are limited to your ability to keeping your eyes shut. Still, he invades your senses as you stagger your breathing. He smells of smouldering ash as he leans in, clasping a claw over your knee.

"Demiurge this is all my fault, I should have let you--" You choke out, pausing as he whispers again.

"The fault lies within my ineptitude to act accordingly. Lady Holly, you can not assume responsibility for this discourse. This..this shame belongs to Albedo and I alone." You open your eyes to see his other hand over his mouth as he speaks through his fingers. His darkened skin seems sucked of color, leaving him oddly pale.

_Please hold me._

"I-I stopped you. I was the one, I could have but I didn't, I...I fucked up Demiurge. I fucked up so bad and now--" You begin to dig your fingers into your head, scratching pinks and purples into your scalp. Every breathe you take seems to be increasingly difficult.

"You were heeding Lord Ainz, My supreme one." His fingers flex over your knee, claw tips scraping your armor. Has the richness of his voice always been this soft?

"And you were only following _my_ orders." He winces as you shove the situation back into his lap, his brows knitting. His nostrils flare as he breathes in sharply, allowing him a moment to find a way to rectify his circumstance. He is quick to shift gears as he takes both of your smaller hands into his one. He pulls you away from scoring your scalp with further welts and imprints.

"Lady Holly. I will flawlessly execute any decree of yours. My devotion to you is resolute my Lady, ceaseless," Demiurge pauses as he leans forward, hovering over you as he squeezes your hands. "Just inform me of what to do."

You want to scream at him that you want Momonga back! To throw yourself into his chest as you did at the Plantation and sob. Just fucking _sob_. For his arms to wrap around you, to cage you into his body as he tells you it is going to be okay.

But he can not bring Momonga back, and it is not okay.

"...Time," As if it would be the final word you would ever say, you speak life into your dying world. "I-I need to think. Alone. I'm...I'm so..so _very_ sorry for everything. This never should have--"

"The guardians would stand inflexible until the conclusion of time for you Lady Holly." He nods as he lets go of your hands, retreating from your touch as he places his hands in his lap.

"..Forgive my selfish anxiety, I need to know of when... _if_.." That beautiful sterling silver tone of his that spills from his lips falters, his ears tilting to the floor. His tail slips over yours, coiling the cool metal plates over your tail as you speak.

"I'm not going anywhere, Demiurge," You try to smile, and as the curves of your lips begin to rise tears spring free from your eyes. Red and puffy, swollen and gold. they fall as you choke out, "Y-You're stuck with me, remember?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

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	3. No greater love Act three

**✨  Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ No _greater_ love ~

Act three

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Greater Teleportation]

 

You stumble forward, tripping over your left foot. The steel plates upon your shin sound off with a metallic shriek as they crash against the wooden lip of your bed. The black chasm that swallows you up to spit you out a second later that is [Greater Teleportation] has your stomach doing somersaults. Nausea tickles the pit of your stomach as you fall into your comforter, grabbing the closest pillow.

And you scream.

The sleek orchid cushion muffles the wet howl that you bury into it.

_This is real._

You are fucking exhausted and all you want to do is crawl into your bed and disappear, just fucking _sleep_. If you can sleep you can escape, and if you can escape maybe there is a chance that time will change. That you can somehow go back and accompany Momonga, that you could have said yes to Demiurge.

At least if you had went with Momonga you could have died as well.

_It should have been you._

Your heart seems caught in your mouth as you choke, gurgling on another sloppy yell and too many tears. If you are not howling into your pillow you are grinding your teeth together, gnashing canines as if you were scissoring tough hide.

Did Momonga hope you would disobey him? At the moment he knew it was over, did he wish to be saved?

Your breathing hitches. The vacant spaces in your skull feel lined with cotton and needles. Every time you blink white flares painfully across your eyes, and you are starting to see double. You squeeze your eyes tight to make it all go away. Go away.

_I'm sorry._

You feel trapped in your armor. Your heart aches as it continues to pound relentlessly, threatening to rip open your chest and sprint away. It should. Everyone should leave. This is all your fault, and now not only is Momonga dead...

The guardians will look to you.

They should not look to you.

...Why would they look to you.

Sore is an understatement to how swollen your body feels. You feel like you have been through a god damn car accident. The crushing weight of Momonga's death hits you full force as you try to unbuckle your chest piece, fingers slipping as you struggle to release yourself from your prison.

You can not lead the guardians?! You can not even take off your armor as you fumble about pathetically, crying, wishing someone would help you. Save you.

Save Momonga.

He is _gone_.

For a moment, the air around you grows thin. You can hear what you think is tapping against the flooring of your room, but you take it as a hallucination. That or it is your knees popping as they lock, buckling under the weight of your stupid sack of shit self. You do not have it in you to stand, or to try to catch yourself on your bed as you slip down onto the floor. You should have went instead of him.

Something slips through the straps of your chest piece, leather belts un looping themselves. Air floods your lungs as you no longer feel caught enclosed in your own steel. A welcomed vertigo invades your head, dancing in your mind like a ballerina composed of smoke and lace. You wonder if you are floating because you have not touched the ground..

Your bed sheets smell of fresh linen, the kind that is entirely too expensive but you hold to your face at the department stores anyways. They feel like cool silk, and soft like rabbits fur. They are just like the ones you have always wanted to buy, but never had the money for. Your head is pressed tenderly yet firmly into the scent as the ringing in your ears begins to subside.

Your head rises and falls rhythmically. It is as if someone is breathing for you, breathing with you.

You have not been smelling your linens.

Someone is with you.

Your eyes flicker open, burning red and wounded from too many tears. The air that pushes through your lips is sour, foul with the dry rot of your throat. Your vision is hazy, but you know the blends of color that are now flooding your sights.

"...I-I am so s-sorry." Every word you dare to speak rakes painfully up from the dredges of your being, every apology burns away another piece of your soul. It is not enough to say sorry, never enough in an infinite amount of lifetimes, but what more can you give than the painstaking truth?

"Nein, Liebling, this...this is not your fault. Lord Ainz truly did not wish for your involvement! I-I...I should have been the one, It is..was my duty, my solemn oath as a guardian to protect my creator.." Pandora's Actor works one of his hands through the tangled mess that is your hair, inhuman fingers seeking solace in something soft in a world so harsh to him at this moment. The often whimsical and fun of his voice sounds dark and lost, as if it is not him speaking and instead him borrowing another voice.

There is a bridge that hangs before you with not enough support that you walk on as you speak. That through fear of heading back you move forward, that it is terror and not conviction that pumps ice through your veins as he finishes and you begin.

"No. I-I...I can't take much more. This is so fucking much, and I can't..I can't handle you blaming yourself on top of all of this. I can't Pandora, please, _p-please_ , not you too..," You struggle on your words, and if you were not being coddled in his lap you would think the ground had opened up to swallow you whole. That in one fell swoop you could just disappear into a cold hell, and that if he was not here you just might have.

"What have I done..?" You mutter under your breath, reaching a hand to nestle under his tie. You curl your fingers as you pet the material, thumb stroking as the weak padding of your skin catches on the tiny slivers of fabric.

"Meine dame, you were following my crea-creators..," His voice cracks as he leans in, placing his head over yours as his hearts pace skips a beat. " L-Logic. You did as instructed, we all did as instructed, and for..for arguments sake I-I...It is treason Winterberry, and you should have my head for my next words, but I should have disobeyed you! I should have left Nazarick to aid in his endeavor!"

"I couldn't handle losing both of you." You shake your head, and it hurts. Fuck, it fucking hurts. The tears sliding down your cheeks burn brighter and hotter, as if you were actually crying droplets of starlight.

"Nazarick should have forfeit me over Lord Ainz! I am nothing--"

_You are everything._

"W-what do you want me to say Pandora!? I have completely and utterly sabotaged Nazarick, and I killed Momonga, not Shalltear?! I did nothing, I'm the one that's nothing!" You claw at his tie, yanking it down as you drag your forehead into the nape of his neck. You grit your teeth as you sob.

There is a pregnant pause as his body tenses up. His chest rises slowly, only to collapse weakly under the pressure of breathing. His hand slowly creeps up as it works and climbs through a waterfall of reds and blues, his palm encompassing the back of your head. His fingers wrap of your head gingerly as he squeezes, kneading the throbbing of your skull carefully.

"...Please do not speak such a way again, my lady. Liebling you...you are the last remaining supreme one now. Y-You are the only star in our n-night, you are all I have left, Winterberry." He jolts suddenly, his free hand snapping up to his cap as he salutes down to you.

"Anything! Your orders meine dame! I can do and will accomplish all of your wishes, no matter how diminutive or phantasmal! Y-You made me your personal escort, did you not?!" For a moment, the man lost in his grief is found as his melodious voice returns, the heart in his chest beating faster for a different reason. "..and I will stand with you until the very fabric of dimensions collide to rake existence away, and even then! I question that the erosion of time could keep me from your side."

"B-but..I, this is all on me, I did this, I killed h-him out of my own..my selfishness and fear. My idiocy, I can't be him, I can't..why, why are you doing this Pandora? Why?!" You hate this. All you are doing is sinking lower, hoping that he continues to save you and pity your ass. God, please, just let him continue to be here, even though he should abandon you. Leave you.

" Nazarick would be better off without me, I can not lead you all, I can barely make sense of myself." You want to shout, but all that comes out is another acidic whisper.

"Nein, meine dame, y-you _are_ Nazarick. Where did you ever get the notion that you were nothing less than the most singular valuable jewel upon the tombs crown!?" His hand leaves his cap as he twirls a finger to lifting your chin. You can barely make out his face through your tears.

"Do you remember what Lord Ainz told you? His words unto you should he fall from grace?"

You nod, mouthing that you do not know what to do. You remember, but you do not know. You could replay Momonga's orders a thousand times and each instance would sound as if it were coming to you through too much static and a different language.

"Liebling, I..I swore unto you, by my creators name Lord Ainz Ooal Gown! I will stand by you through _anything_ ," He leans in, and soon all you can see is the accepting black of his eyes as he envelopes in his embrace.

"I intend to keep that promise to you."

 

 

* * *

 

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# 


	4. No greater love Act four

**✨ Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ No _greater_ love ~

Act four

* * *

 

 

  
After discussing things over you know what has to be done. Although Lord Ainz is gone and a piece of you will forevermore be hollow, you have to be strong for Nazarick. He will live on through you in more ways than one.

The hands on your lower back feel fragile, as if they are made of delicate ore and twine rather than pale skin and bone. They grow in strength as you relax, their fingers stroking through your hair red flows like a serpent into many shades of blue.

What has to be done is an unspoken promise. It is that of two worlds tugging upon one another with equal forces of gravity, locked in a waltz upon the outer reaches of space. You would promise infinity if it was in your power to do so, a mere token of your devotion to not only Nazarick, but the one you brush your lips upon with a certainty of keeping them preserved at all costs.

They hold you tighter as you time your blinking, adjusting the haze over your sights. You stare level into wide eyes that plead with you for mercy, acceptance, and love. They have all of that and more, and you tell them so with a kiss you will never forget.

"I will be back soon." You whisper soothingly, thumbs blotting away shimmering tears. You stand on your toes to pepper entirely too many tender kisses upon their pale forehead. The soft sound they make is the last bit of courage you need to carry out your strategy. The one that you have devised to compliment Lord Ainz's last will and testament.

Assembling the floor guardians present at Nazarick is of no issue as you use [Message] to announce to them to meet you in the throne room. You will take up the mantle of the last remaining supreme being. You tell yourself so as you are hugged tightly once more before departing.

It is time to go.

 

 

[Greater Teleportation]

 

 

You are unsure of where the gap in your soul is at losing Lord Ainz, but it feels closest to your heart as you gently brush a finger against the Throne of kings. Without him you would not have the life you have now here in Nazarick. You palm the throne before taking seat, squeezing your eyes shut to numb the pain clawing at your being. There will be a time for grieving, and now is not that time.

Now is the time for being all that you have to be for Nazarick. You have to play the part perfectly as the woman you are choosing to be in this moment. You have to strike a balance of charisma and strength all while displaying to the guardians that you are still Holly Leonhardt. You are still kind, honest, and in a toiling sea of your own turmoil and conflict due to what has happened.

They can not find out your actions are a facade and that you are feigning characterization! Too much would be at stake should they find out you are not who you say you are. You can not afford to fail with the weight of the world on your shoulders this way.

Nazarick will not crumble under the pressure of raising a Supreme being worthy of succeeding Lord Ainz. Not when you can be that woman here and now.

You know what you have to do.

"Lady Holly," Demiurge is curiously the first to arrive, kneeling before you with a gloved black hand pressed tightly to his chest. He rests his tail on the floor below, the silvery blunt head of his appendage smoothing out the silk red carpet.

"Hey.." You start, leaning forward. "..Are you okay?" You ask as you reach a hand towards the demon, palm upturned.

"...As always your benevolence is unfathomable to me," He reaches his hand up, fitting his palm against yours. As he speaks he gently brushes his middle finger against yours, guild rings sighing as they kiss one another. "What matters to me at this moment is your welfare and prosperity, My Lady."

"You matter too, Demiurge. I...I-I am going to need you. A _lot_. I can't do this without you," You squeeze his hand, leaning forward as you whisper. "I should have let you go with him. _Please_ accept my apology. For me."

"There will never be a time where you will show fault in my eyes, Lady Holly. My supreme one you have sole proprietary of me; I can and will be the instrument of your endeavors." He stands from his knelt position, keeping your hand in his. His chest raises with a deep breathe before he quietly exhales, bending at his chest. Demiurge's crystals seem to swallow you whole as he stares into your eyes.

"I will stand with you." His lips tickle as they caress over your guild ring, the warmth of his affection comparable to the wealth in the treasury. You run your thumb over his cheek and nod, dragging your thumb over the warmth of his dark skin. He simply nods with a blink before releasing your hand, clasping his claws behind his back.

"I regret to inform you that Albedo will not be able to--"

"Demiurge, I want you to take over the role of Guardian Overseer until Albedo recovers. Can you do this for me?" You lean back into the throne, placing your tail in your lap as he bows once more.

"That is a most wise decision, one I was hoping to request of you myself. Albedo is unable at this time to function and I apologize on her behalf, My Lady."

"You don't need to apologize for her Demiurge, she doesn't need to apologize for anything herself. This...I-I can't explain it well, I still can't believe it happened. This is just all..so much," You press your head into the back of the throne, hair bunching up and spilling over your shoulders. You release a sigh as you stare up into the ceiling, looking to something, anything for an answer.

_I am so very sorry, Lord Ainz. Please, Forgive me._

"My lady, should you need time in this state of grievance affairs," He pauses as you adjust in your seat, bringing your head back down to face him. "I assure you that with the title of Guardian Overseer on my shoulders that Nazarick--"

"I know you will do a wonderful job, Demiurge." You interrupt him, placing a hand up. You still have to discuss with him what Lord Ainz's wishes for the great tomb were should he fail. It still feels so unreal that he did fail...

"I need to talk with you about what Lord Ainz and I discussed before he..." You look away briefly, swallowing your words and replacing them with ones better suited.

_Is he really gone?_

"...before he left to fight Shalltear."

"You will always have my undivided attention, Lady Holly." He brings a hand up to his chest, fingers splaying out across his business suit. His tail lifts in an indolent wave. Either he can hold his grief in better than the others, or he is making ready to bury his concern in his duties to Nazarick. It is most likely somewhere in between.

"I need you to pull back from the Plantation. Abandon it for now. Any and everything must be brought back to Nazarick. We need to lay low for awhile, kay?"

"At once, My lady. Consider it done." Demiurge says calmly, lowering his head. His ears twitch and are the only sign you have that something else is on his mind.

"I can't do this without you, Demiurge. Tell me." He catches you pointing at his ears, and his lips jerk into a sheepish smile. He is quick to switch back to his unflappable posture and expression as he speaks.

"There is still the issue that Shalltear presents, my lady."

"..Shit." You lean back again, looking up once more to the ceiling. Lord Ainz did not have a plan for re-obtaining Shalltear. You can easily think of a solution, but will it be what Lord Ainz would have wanted? How do you balance what is good for Nazarick while following in his footsteps?

All you can do is try.

"Lady Holly, if you wish it so I will devise a plan to reacquire Shalltear." He says, his eyes hooded with an air of cruelty and professionalism that has you equally concerned and impressed.

"Do as you see fit, Demiurge. I uh, trust your judgement. I only ask that you do what you can to assure her capture and not her death. I am unsure if we can resurrect her without the staff of Ainz Ooal Gown. I...I just don't want to lose Shalltear as well." Shaking your head you whisper your last words. You bring a hand to your forehead, wiping away sweat that is not there.

"Where is Cocytus? I know that the twins are still heading back to Nazarick, and that Albedo is currently a wreck..not that I blame her, I'm honestly surprised I'm able to keep my composure!" You chuckle wetly, tears stinging your eyes. That is right, breathe in your act, pull it together. Show enough weakness to make yourself believable, but do not show too much. You still have to be strong.

Demiurge clears his throat, tongue rolling over his teeth. He steps forward to your right side, leaning in as he speaks. He smells of dark smoke and cedar, a physical trait most likely gifted to him by Lord Ulbert. It is nice and the scent makes your mind feel high as he spins his web of intrigue.

"I found it wise to represent Cocytus myself. Lady Holly. I understand that you are still exceedingly troubled by the days events, and I did not wish for you to deal with more than necessary." He rests his hand near yours, his claw tips a hair away from touching you. You nudge him with a giggle, pressing your index finger into his.

"And _you're_ not too much?" You tap his finger, raising an eyebrow. You pull some of your hair over your face, twisting curls around your other hand as you hide your crooked grin.

"At times I believe I am not _enough,_ Lady Holly." You watch as his eyes undress you, shimmering bright with a vulgar smile he chooses to not reveal upon his lips.

"Hey, real talk for a second," You rest your hand on his, staring into his guild ring. You run your fingers over it, tasting the red of the amethyst as it reacts to your touchings. You are doing well, he has not suspected a thing. If you keep this up he never will.

"Are you going to be okay with all of this? It's a lot, a lot _lot,_ Demiuge. I know you're a workaholic and all but...this is more than work. This is---"

"Lady Holly, allow me to _show_ you my answer." Demiurge's tone is nothing short of liquid silver, running molten and hot through your ears and drenching your heart in his smooth tone.

Your stomach tightens as he leans in, the pleasant texture of his glove caressing your supple cheek. You are showered in goosebumps as he presses his forehead into yours, boyish lashes blinking over his pretty diamond eyes.

He fits his bottom lip between yours, daring himself further as your breathing hitches. You falter for a moment, frozen. Your arms feel heavy as they almost lift to push him away, fingers stopping their shove on his chest. Instead you trail your palms over his flannel, balling up the mans lapels as you melt into him as if _he_ was the one that mattered most to you. You pull the demon closer, deepening your kiss. All the while his hand fits under your jaw, tenderly kneading everything he is trying to tell you within this embrace into your skin.

_Into you._

There is an intimate moment shared between the two of you as you reach up to cup his face, stamping your fingers into his skin. He is calm, lips curving into a smile as he breathes in the air you release from your nose. You look up to his view and by the supreme beings, his eyes are so very beautiful. He truly is a work of Lord Ulbert's malice and artistic ability.

You pull away from his embrace, a pause, and then you kiss him softly once more. Once more your heart skips a beat as he presses forward, his devilish tongue flicking over your lips. It is a token of his devotion, affection, unyielding love for his goddess, and proof that you have what you need in him, from him. You press your lips into his again with the same rush of need he has, because he needs to know that he has all of those things from you as well. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Although it is unnecessary in your eyes, Demiurge escorts you to your bedroom. It really is just a quick cast of [Greater Teleportation] to your double doors, but you can appreciate his persistence. It is going to be necessary that all of the guardians treat the remaining supreme being with ceaseless devotion.

He bids you farewell with a kiss of your hand, disappearing in an uproar of his black flames as his guild ring takes him where he needs to be. He has things that he must attend to quickly, deeds that you both agree are important and must be addressed first.

Everything must be hidden away in Nazarick, the Great tomb has to be concealed. Shalltear will have to wait, it is by Lord Ainz last words that Nazarick prepare itself for the worst. You must assume that anything could happen.

When Aura and Mare arrive they will expand the hills outside, smoothing out the landscape to make Nazarick look nothing more than an expanse of non-descriptive land. Demiurge has already used [Message] to get into contact with Pulcinella, and the farm will be discontinued until further notice. Nazarick will make due with what scrolls it has.

Demiurge has requested that if materials reach a point where they begin to run low that he discreetly send out minions to 'collect' supplies. You trust him enough to allow this, however you are unsure if it is for Nazarick or himself. Again, with his duality it is most likely somewhere in between. Which is fine, if he is going to undertake the role of Overseer he should receive some reward.

Cocytus will assume responsibility of Floor guardian for the first three floors along with his own. Sebas will act as stand in Floor guardian for Albedo, guarding the ninth and tenth floors. Until the time comes that Albedo is ready to once again act as overseer, she will remain absent of duties. You are aware that she is holed up in Lord Ainz's quarters. To you, she can take all the time that she needs.

It may be that you understand her in a way, or that you think it is what Lord Ainz would have wanted. He did choose her to love him, after all.

Your doors pull back as you mean to open them, warm light pouring forward, spilling out as if the sun were breaking dawn. There is a sniffle and a soft sigh as you step inside.

...Well, you _would_ have stepped inside. If you had ever left.

 

* * *

 [Black Sky Legion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17666051/chapters/41665433)

~Lurkingevil~

🖤Recommended fan fiction🖤

* * *

🎇💙 Thank you for your Kudos, Bookmarks, and Comments! 💙🎇 

 

 

[Tumblr](https://download077.tumblr.com/)

[Deviantart](https://www.deviantart.com/download077)

 


	5. No greater love Act five

✨ **Jörmungandr's Chosen** ✨

~ No _greater_ love ~

Act five

[~No Greater Love Cover Art~](https://www.deviantart.com/download077/art/No-Greater-Love-786958407)

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

  
You just needed something you could breathe in.

You run your palms over your dress, easing out the clinging black material that is bunching up around your chest. Your fingers fiddle around the petite bow on your hip, eyes fixed on the ground as Pandora's Actor closes your double doors. He taps his tail, _your_ _tail_ against the blue low lit etchings of your entryway with a soft pat before turning to face you.

"Schau nicht so traurig, meine wunderschöne Blume," He sighs, bubbly like fresh ginger ale yet smooth with the rich caramels of a feminine contralto voice.

You sniffle once more, smearing clear mucus and old tears onto your forearm. You would avoid his gaze out of shame, but he is hard to ignore as he tilts his head directly in front of yours, staring at you with a twin pair of accomplished emerald eyes and the grin to match.

He is a damn savant at what he does.

Earlier when you watched him from your mirror of remote viewing you would have sworn that he was a better you than you could ever be.

However, now with that smile? He looks, well, _you_ look like a total goof.

You take it as that he is comfortable enough around you to be himself in your own skin.

"..I-I don't know how to thank you." You whisper through your teeth. Your eyes feel raw as tears spring free on a strangled back choke.

"I require no form of gratitude, my dear." His forehead knocks into yours as he gazes into your tear stained eyes. Slender arms hook around your back as he cuddles into you. With a deep breathe his body toils with a series of sloppy gurgles and wet bursts as he rearranges his form.

The hands on your back grow, fingers climbing to your shoulders. Your head slips down from his as he raises higher and back into his doppelganger form. Your nose brushes against every bit of his self surgery until you lay the side of your face into his chest. You dismiss the world with a shut of your eyes in favor of listening to the soothing pulse of his heart beat.

His breathe tickles against your scalp as he fits his chin between the horns peeking free from your hair. His fingers work their way through your threads familiarly as he wraps red and indigo curls around each of his digits. Your palms press into his back, digging into his uniform as you pull him impossibly closer.

You have so many questions, and all feel like an insult.

You saw, you know. You watched from your bed curled around too many pillows and not enough tissues. He was the one who set you on your bed after all, the one who lifted the mirror of remote viewing as he explained everything.

He was the one who went, not you.

You should have been the one to go, not him.

_This is so wrong._

"Pandora I--"

"I had an inkling that you would remain timid about this arrangement, meine dame," He interrupts as he pulls his head away to look down at you nudging wetly into his chest. "I-I...Ich liebe dich, meine dame! I can continue this soirée as long as you require me too, I swear it so!"

"...W-what do we do if they find out?" You stutter, crooning your head up to face him.

"They won't. I am Pandora's Actor after all ,Liebling." He whispers, hands sliding away from your hair. Your curls spring up as he unfurls his fingers, bouncing back into place.

His movements dictate that he is most likely getting ready to snap a hand up to his cap in a salute. Your lips upturn weakly in preparation, it is almost second nature to smile when his personality is in full swing. Instead of a salute, however, he bends at his knees, hands curling around your thighs as he hoists you up to straddle his waist. You adjust clumsily as you grab at his shoulders, slipping your bare feet between his jacket and uniform.

"Y-You...You were incredible to watch. You did a wonderful job, ya know. I can't...I can't believe you actually..ya _know_." He lifts you higher, just above the many buttons and chains on his military ensemble. One of his inhuman hands can easily hold you up, so he removes his other to brush the hair falling in your face and off of his own.

 

"Ooooh Danke, Lady Holly.~ To think that I did you proud fills me with utmost joy! Ahaha jaja, I..I will not fail you regardless of what I may have to do." Pandora's Actor maps a lone finger along the scales of her jaw, each a radiant sapphire he is sure was used to craft the one upon Lord Touch Me's armor. Only, his beloved has many. She is everything, she is..

The last remaining supreme being.

"Do not put yourself in a situation that you will regret or end up hurting you, Pandora. I mean that." Ah, this is the first time since Lord Ainz has fallen that she sounds confident. He is quick to reject his thought of fighting her on her words, however, not now at least. Until such a time comes that she is ready, he will be her.

It is truly indifferent to him what he may or may not have to do in her stead. What matters is securing Nazarick, securing her!

He will not fail another supreme being.

He simply nods as her eyes seem to command from him a truth he was not sure she or he himself was ready for. But she most know. If only he could have said one last sentiment to his lord..

"W-winterberry I...I-I.. _I love you_." His heart catches in his throat as her expression falters. She searches him as he searches her, and he is unsure of how long he can keep cradling her against his chest as his arms grow heavy. They exchange a silent conversation as her eyes shimmer with flakes of amber, and Ohh, liebling, he can feel her through every muscle in his body! Alas, yet, when she cries...

...Perhaps he should leave her be. This is too much!

She can not love him back, he is an area guardian.

She is a supreme being, the last remaining one at that!

He is not _worthy.  
_

Dripping with molten gold she smiles with a half hiccup giggle. Both of her hands cup his face as her tears splash around him and form wellsprings of light. Ah, it is a rather beautiful spell..

"I..I think I love you, too." She whispers truthfully, each word wrapping around his heart like a silk ribbon. Pandora's pulls Holly closer, trembling, and she fits around him, through him, and apparently he does the same for her.

"Y-You do?! I-I, I do not mean to question I-I, I just!" He chokes out until she places a hand over his mouth. She nods again as more of her tears fall, gifting the unworthy ground with her golden blessings. Why, if he could take her tears and forge them into something for her he would. She's so beautiful right now, and his heart beats faster as not only is he here for her in this moment, but she shares with him such treasured affections.

She holds him close as she removes his cap, now resting her head atop his. Her exotic hair surrounds him in a veil and it is here he feels safe for the first time in the day. There are no words stronger than love to him, and the only thing that may ever challenge the word is the bond he believes he has with her.

 That he does have with you; That you have with him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 [Metamorphosis (Life Theory Remix)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=51k4FWnWqU8&index=28&list=PLpxaq1_99kwJEbuRlxzrCYmVic2OBbnGX)

~Blue Stahli~

* * *

 

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# 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so this ends No _~Greater~_ Love! 
> 
> Greater is a play on Pandora's Actor's racial Greater Doppelganger. 💛❤️💛


	6. Across the Universe part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 💛🖤 This Across the Universe mini series is based out of Kensalyn's fic Real life on the seventh floor. The setting, world, etc are all from her creative mind. I have her permission to write this and use her characters/world building/setting. Yes, this is a fan fiction in another fan fictions universe. 👀 
> 
> SO HOW DID THIS HAPPEN. 
> 
> Kensalyn is a beautiful individual and if you have not read her fic Real life on the seventh floor shame on you go read it now. So we were talking and she was like Yo What if Holly was in my fic and hooked up with Pandora's Actor because I don't like him being lonely in my fic. And I was like Girl GIRL. Do not give me ideas. Which then turned into a long discussion... Which then turned into a bunch of ideas.. ...And here we are. 
> 
> This mini series is fictitiously set in Kensalyn's Real life on the seventh floor. This is an AU Where Holly never played Yggdrasil and meets the human version of a certain treasury guardian. As always, written in second person/reader perspective. Reader is Holly Leonhardt from Child of Jörmungandr.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**✨  Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ Across the Universe ~

Part one

* * *

 

  
You had never planned on arriving to work ten minutes early only to be handed your final pay check. Eight years of hard work just....gone.

Of course the studio would close. Who in their right minds nowadays with the way technology has advanced would want to spend _money_ on getting their photos taken? Not when everyone has a camera and app that edits their portraits for them in their back pockets.

You knew the business would come to an end some day, maybe even earlier than you thought, but today?!

You sniffle as you try to jab your house key into your cars ignition as tears blur your sights. Gah this sucks! Why today of all days?! It is not that today in particular is special _per se_ , it is just that you were having a good morning.

You woke up on time, took a shower, styled your hair, hell, you did not even skip breakfast! You took the time to fix yourself something to eat so you would not be tempted by the food court and its unhealthy yet delicious taunting of Pizza and urban Chinese food.

You slip your pay check into your center console with a defeated sigh. You need to deposit that money as soon as possible. Apparently the entire company is going under, not just the franchise.

This really blows.

Rest in peace saving up the money for playing the new DDMO-RPG Yggdrasil two. You did not get to play the first one and were really hoping to enjoy the second...

Time to be a responsible adult and start sending out some resumes that you desperately need to update. You have had this job practically since High school so you have your work cut out for you.

You fumble for the correct key as you finally scratch it into place. Sorry Mitsubishi.

Your car groans as you shift your gears into reverse. A jerk of the engine rutting against itself in irritation and a few encouraging pats of the steering wheel later you pull out of the parking lot to make your way home.

You hope your mom is not home.

 

 

* * *

 

  
Can today get any worse?

It is hotter than walking on the sun as you make it home an hour later. There is no breeze and your cars air conditioner has been busted for years so your pits are sweaty.

Actually?

Everything is sweaty, your work clothes are drenched (old work clothes now, sigh), and all you want to do is take a cold shower.

Typically it is only a fifteen or so minute drive to get home, maybe thirty at tops if traffic is bad. However a hop, skip, and a jump over some pavement later at about forty miles per hour some random guy decided it would be a good idea to drive drunk and crash into the concrete median.

Your left eyelid involuntarily twitches as the undercarriage of your car scrapes against the steep incline of your drive way. No matter how slow you take it you somehow always find a way to grate over it.

Fortunately Mom is not home. Normally it would bother you to have to unlock all three deadbolts to get inside, but today? You can appreciate that she locked everything down before she went off to run her errands.

Lets you know that she intends to be gone for some time.

It is not that you do not like your mother! You love her. She is just a _tad_ overbearing. You have thought of moving out on more than one occasion but it is just more economical to live with her over living on your own in some trash heap since that is all you could afford.

Well, could have afforded. Now you are broke unless by some miracle your resume gets picked up.

You push your way through your front door as it creeks open. Smells like your Mom knew with her inhuman intuition that something would happen today and that you would be home early. The greasy smell of breakfast bacon tickles your nose and you already know there is a plate in the microwave for you.

You strip off your clothes as you walk down the hall way and toss them into your adjacent bedroom without a single fuck to give. The faucet whines its typical mechanical squeak as you turn on the hot water first, then the cold to balance out the temperature.

You wash yourself off with a lather of some cheap body wash that smells like peaches. The bottle says something fancy like _'Tahitian clay with musk of fig'_ but you know that is bullshit.

It is totally peaches.

You wrap your hair up in a Khaji head wrap like you are Alibaba with the same towel you have been using to dry off for the last three (or was it four?) showers. You search for the cleanest pair of Pajamas in your notorious pile of clothes that needed to be washed days ago before hopping onto your computer.

You take a sip of the energy drink you did not finish from last night as you open up the necessary documents to fumble your way through a resume. Your experience is impressive, but not practical. Not anymore, at least.

Eight years in digital graphics? Check. You can manipulate a portrait well enough to get someone butt ugly onto the front cover of Vogue. Need a banner for a website? A business card? A logo? You can do it!

Some managerial training? Albeit begrudgingly, you do have it. Working at a small business for eight years with a high turn over rate led you to many uncomfortable situations where you had to act as supervisor without the pay.

Customer service? Naturally. A business can not be ran without paying customers, and paying customers always want their money's worth in product and experience.

Education? High School Diploma, College drop out around the two and a half year mark. Work and School do not mix and when it came to one or the other...

Now you wish you had chosen school.

Hobbies? Err, well? You like to draw some strange ass surreal art occasionally that no one seems to have an appreciation for. You stopped posting online years ago when no one would give you a thumbs up or a comment. It was discouraging so you just keep that stuff to yourself now. All locked up tight in a notebook that got coated in rhinestones and stickers from a night of binge watching terrible soap opera's while hyped up on caffeine.

You like to play video games competitively. You are not very good competitively but you still like to play them. Sometimes you like to fluff up that you are better than you are to strangers to coax your delicate ego.

You enjoy forum lurking and keeping up with different games and their ever changing meta. Sometimes you watch in depth reviews for games you will never purchase. Other times you just like to indulge in streamers playing. It is often cathartic to just watch strangers do the work as you sit back with a bag of chips and laugh like a hyena when they die.

Wow, that is...that is it. Other than a header and your name (Which you skip, you just put your usual username) that is all you have to put down. It looks so _boring_. Just a few lines of text on bullet points that elaborate to a future employer why they should hire you.

A thought crosses your mind as you double click on a light blue icon bordered in black with a centered P on your desktop homescreen. You drag and drop your resume into the photo editor and spruce it up a notch.

You just want it to stand out enough. So that when a prospective supervisor opens their email and see's your attachment they are impressed. Or at the very least they remember you. It is something your boss taught you when she went through stacks and stacks of applications and resumes. The ones that stick out are the that you interview.

_Aye aye captain._

White background? Nah. Dark red, white text. Gotta be flashy but still smooth like silk.

Border? Black filigree. Classy!

Typical rectangular shape? Not for this document! Let's go oval and center all of the text.

Times new roman? Nah too plain. Arial black? Oof, nope. That is pretentious and a bit aggressive. Something refined like Calibri should do the trick. Show's that you are different, but not too different. Striking a balance is important after all!

You sit back in your swivel chair with crossed arms. You just need to drink it in before saving and finding places to submit your resume. It looks good, but it could look great.

You are just not sure...

Heyyyy. You have got an idea! Why not make the main points gold in color while leaving the summary text white?

Looks more like a wedding invitation over a resume, but damn it all if you would not remember this thing.

As you save the .PSD to convert back into an email-able word document your computer chimes with a needy want of an update that you have been putting off. That you are going to continue to put off.

No, not right now computer. Bad.

As if to say _'Fuck you too'_ when you hit the red X in the top right of the update prompt your computer chimes off in warning once more.

You scroll through your towns local listings and job offers. You submit your resume wherever viable as well as a few places that probably do not make sense but hey, you are jobless and you can not afford to be picky.

Your ears ring as your heart jumps into your throat at the sound of your front door opening.

Yikes! Mom is home and you do not want to talk about losing your job right now. You reach behind your monitor to flip the off switch into place before pole vaulting without the pole onto your bed. You roll like a burrito into your comforter and shove a pillow between your legs before squeezing your eyes shut.

Mom opens your bedroom door with a sigh at seeing you _'asleep'._ She closes your door without a word and you thank whatever god you deem necessary at the time.

Well, you are already here. Might as well take a nap. Not like you have a job to do!

_Hahaha...hahaha...ha..._

Your shoulders slump as you pull another pillow into your chest.

Maybe you will wake up and your inbox will be flooded with job offers and prods for prospective interviews.

 

 

* * *

 

 

So there is _one_ email.

One is better than none, right?

You arch your back in a stretch as you open the email from a username...Pet3rPan?

Interesting..

 

 

_To whom it may concern,_

_Greetings and good day!_

_After giving your ingenious resume a once over I am inclined to extend the offer of employment unto such an original individual._

_As per protocol of typical employer to employee I would like to set up an impromptu interview this afternoon for I am in need of spontaneous assistance._

_I am highly interested in your artistic capabilities pertaining to web design, niche work, and the occasional dabbling of photo manipulation._

_We can discuss this further if you should choose to respond to this email._

_I look forward to your punctual reply!_

_Sincerely,_

_~Pan Darsteller~_

 

 

This afternoon?!

Your eyes dart between the email and the bottom right of your screen that reads 4:33pm.

Holy crap how long were you out?!

You quickly open up the drop down menu to hit reply. He sent this email at 10:42am, _shit_. So much for a prompt reply..

 

 

 

_Dear Pan Darstellar,_

  
_Thank you for showing interest in my resume. I am available for interview this afternoon into the early evening._

_Sincerely,_

_*WardenOfDawn*_

 

 

 

Short but sweet. You know from experience to not add unnecessary fluff into emails when dealing with professional matters. It is always best to just get straight to the point and leave the nonsense out.

Even though you wanted to apologize for not responding earlier. At least you got back to him in the same day, right?

Your email blips with a new message, ticking the number fourteen up to fifteen. You have fourteen unopened emails somewhere that you do not care to go digging for. Right now what matters is number fifteen.

Damn he is fast, has he been waiting for a reply this whole time?

Must need someone pretty bad, this is great!

 

 

 

_Dear WardenOfDawn,_

_Simply wonderful! Thank you for your response._

_Please be ready for my cross examination of your skill set by 5:30pm sharp._

_I am located on the tenth floor of the apartment complex on gravestone way. The pin to the elevator for the tenth floor is 0077. The pass code is encrypted and after 5:30pm it will change and you will not be granted access higher than the ninth level. So do be a good fellow and be on time._

_Please bring a physical portfolio of your work for review as well._

_Sincerely,_

_~Pan Darsteller~_

 

 

 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuck! 5:30pm?! And now it's 4:40pm?! You can not show up at this guys business looking like a bum that rolled out of bed, and gravestone way is by your old job!

That is fifteen minutes away, probably thirty due to the time of day!

Holy crap! You have maybe ten minutes to get ready and to grab your portfolio you do not have but you can throw something together!

You quickly toss on a pair of black slacks, hoisting them up above your belly because we are not rocking a muffin top today no sir! That and pants have always been a weird fit for you. The legs are always too long, the thighs are too tight, and the waist has that gap at your ass where you constantly have to shimmy them back up.

Non descriptive but still pretty navy blue blouse that barely shows cleavage? Check.

Damn you hate high heels but you slip on a pair. Visuals are important, you have to sell yourself first before you can sell your work and abilities. People eat food with their eyes before their mouths and employment is the same way.

You can not style your hair, you do not have time. So you brush the auburn curly mess back and out of your face. You throw in a few bobby pins to keep your bangs in check and out of your eyes. You do not need glasses but they make you look smart, so you grab your reading specs as you rush out of your bedroom.

Jewelry? No time, you can search your purse for a necklace or something in your car. Maybe sneak one on at a red light on the way to your interview.

You grab your purse, the portfolio you hastily printed and tucked into a manila folder, and your art book because why not? It is comforting to have, like a child with their favorite teddy bear.

"Later Mom I'll tell you what's going on when I get back!" You call out in courtesy as you slam the front door behind you. You can hear her muffled calling but you are already one foot in your car door.

The orange light on your dashboard above your stereo reads 5:06pm.

Time to floor it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

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	7. Across the Universe part two

**✨  Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ Across the Universe ~

Part two

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

  
Driving mach five with your hair on fire as if you were racing to the death on the German autobahn you make it to the apartment complex with just four minutes to spare.

You curse under your breath as you snatch up your purse. The indented burgundy door of your ancient coupe slams shut as you kick it closed with the heel of your stiletto.

You walk briskly across the parking lot. Your ankle bends inward as you strut forward a little too quickly and you almost eat the asphalt. You wince with another expletive as you glance from left to right.

Okay, _phew_. No one saw that.

Two glass doors slide open on proximity as you dash through them and towards the elevator just ahead. You tap the upwards facing arrow key as if it is a button mash prompt in a third person action adventure video game.

You pull your phone out of your back pocket, thumb swiping against the touch screen.

5:28pm. Your heart skips a beat.

_Come on come on come onnnn!_

Ding!

You step inside swiftly, thoughts racing faster than your mind can catch up on. You press your finger against the waxy red circle for the tenth floor that is located at the top of the button panel like a star atop of a Christmas tree. Quickly you tap in the numbers 0077. It lights up with a chime in selection as you aggressively push for the inward facing arrows for the doors to shut.

"Excuse me! Can you hold the door for us please?" A kindly voice calls out, low in tone, like that of an all too rare alto in a choir of sopranos. You can just catch a woman waving at you with a happy hand and accompanying smile.

You are such a dick. You would hold open the door for her but the thought of arriving even a second late to your interview betrays your good nature.

"I'msorryIwouldifIcould!" As the elevator door closes you catch a glimpse of what is possibly the most terrifying man you have _ever_ seen cutting you down to size with just a look. Dressed in a business tailored crimson suit with salmon colored pin stripes, black oxford shoes, and glasses that look as though they cost three months salary the man sneers as his tongue hatefully runs over his teeth.

_Yikes._

You press the button call prompt for the doors to close a few extra times for good measure.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
"Lady Mira." The man growls, lower back tingling with the phantom sensation of a tail wishing to twitch in irritation.

Mira exhales loudly in a knowing sigh, her almond shaped eyes portraying equal annoyance and amusement.

"She _did_ say she was sorry." Mira offers with a shrug and unconvincing grin.

"Regardless it was inexcusable behavior," The man sneers again, eyes catching the bags digging pink welts into Mira's fingers. "Allow me to--"

"Demiurge, it's fine, I've got it," Mira lifts her free hand to point forward, replacing the irritation in her voice with a more happy tune. "Besides, the elevators already back."

Her maple hued eyes and smile put his shoulders at ease. Demiurge breathes through his nose with a nod and a bend of his chest.

"As you wish." Demiurge steps ahead, forearm making certain that the elevator doors remain open as Mira steps through them.

 

 

 

* * *

  
It is 5:30pm on the dot as you arrive before the steel reinforced door that marks the _only_ room on the tenth floor. Three polite taps later you step back, quickly patting down your clothes and fixing up your hair.

Deep breath, you've got this.

First, you hear foot steps that sound like someone is....marching?

Second, the unlocking of at least five different dead bolts.

Third?

The door is thrust backwards as a man from an _entirely_ different era swallows the entryway. He is fashioned in an old German military uniform, one of the neo-nazi canary yellow ones from that war twenty years ago. He has got the black hat and boots to match, and you wonder if he is one of the civil war reenactor types.

The man brings his boots together with a clap of thunder that echoes along the top floor of the apartment complex. You gulp as he spreads out his arms in a welcoming gesture while he closes the door behind him.

He puffs his chest out as he turns to face you, silver medals winking at you from the left side of his chest and down. "Aha! Thank you for coming my good sir, I--!" Melodious and aristocratic he is practically singing until his voice comes to a dramatic halt.

He croons his head down, and his blue eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

You look over your shoulder at the elevator doors behind you.

Then back to him.

Then back to the elevator doors.

Then back to the man, who is now smiling wider than a fault line. He nearly punches himself in the chest with his right hand as he gasps excitedly, "Mademoiselle!"

_Holy shit! Run!_

You look at the elevator doors again in a panic, and before you can turn to face him _he is already behind you_. He wraps his hands over your shoulders with a reassuring squeeze and you are to stunned to move.

He pushes you forward like a hospital attendee would a gurney occupied by a dying patient as he speaks, "Ahaha Hallo my soon to be protege! As stated in the email the name is Pan, Pan Darsteller!" He lifts a hand from your shoulder to shove his door inwards before pressing forward.

Pressing _you_ forward.

"Tell me, other than frolicking under the guise of Warden of Dawn who might you really be my dear?"

"Um..H-Holly? My real name is Holly," You step forward and away, pivoting to face him with an outstretched and shaking hand. "I-It's nice to meet youuuu--!?"

He snatches up your hand mid sentence, shaking you up and down like a ball on a paddle board. "Ah such a beautiful name for a beautiful woman! Truly the pleasure is mine!"

By the time Pan has released your hand you are breathless, dazed, and wondering if you are being kidnapped. Pan hums an odd tune as he marches forward, hand in the air, index finger waggling deeper into his home as he gestures for you to follow.

It is no wonder this odd man is so pale. Save for the blue glow from his triple monitor set up his apartment is nearly devoid of light. You blink a few times to adjust your sights to the darkness.

Pan pats the couch adjacent to his computer set up before spinning his swivel chair and taking a seat. Which he straddles, back of the chair to his chest as he hunches, fingers typing excitedly across his keyboard.

You take your seat. You clutch your purse for dear life as your eyes dart around the room, because holy shit, you need an exit strategy if it turns out that this dude is a psycho.

Other than the loud clicking of Pan's fingers you can hear the rotary fans of his computers CPU working over time. Trails of multi colored data cables, all bound together by zip ties approximately three inches apart, are fit neatly through what appears to be custom wood paneling at the back of his desk.

Hanging above in a plexi glass case under lock and key are an assortment of seemingly rare trinkets. Everything looks meticulously placed and immaculate in condition. Ranging from model air planes, open faced geodes loaded with dazzling colors, and a series of military ornaments the display case is a spectacle to behold.

Great. Just great.

By the looks of things...

This dude is probably anal retentive.

You pull at your lip as he continues to type. He is strange but you _need_ a job. You need to find some common ground, some way to make yourself endearing. Whenever you sat in on interviews with your old boss the both of you were always fond of the prospective that tried to be someone more than just a _'Yes M'am'_ type of individual.

Eyes now adjusted to the room you look around for something to talk about as he reaches over to turn on his printer. Skirting along the floors edge with the same wood paneling on his desk there are more wires and fixtures.

...Just what does he _do_ that he needs this much processing power? The cables even go through his kitchen and the door where you assume his bedroom is at. Across from you there is a pretty rad flat screen television. On the televisions stand there are some more eclectic looking collectables, a cable box, and some other devices you do not recognize.

When you look above the television though?

You crack a wide smile, eyes utterly fascinated.

There is an ornate weapon rack with a singular gun. Just underneath the rifle's detailed strap there is a red box of unopened ammunition. You already know it's 7.92x57mm.

That gun is unmistakably a Fallschirmjägergewehr 42 and god help you if you actually try to pronounce that. It was your go to weapon in a multi series game where you slaughtered Nazi zombies in a dystopian future.

That game was the tits and you spent entirely too many hours trying to solo the campaign on its highest difficulty.

Only his seems a bit...different. The wooden stock has hand etched carvings with aureate filigree painted into the grooves. The barrel is unnaturally glossy and two shades darker than a normal guns burnished metal. The iron sights also sit higher, and when you squint you can catch where they are rimmed in polished silver.

That thing must have cost a small country. If you recall correctly from the weapons lore in game Germany only produced two thousand of the first variation of that type of rifle. And that one sitting pretty above Pan's television?

That one is special. And it is freakin' _cool._

"Is that an FG 42?" You ask as you smile inwardly.

The punching of keys stops suddenly as Pan snaps to face you. He blinks a few times in a moment of calm before grinning from ear to ear. "Jaja, that it is young lady! The curiosity in me is positively itching to comprehend how you know for the weapon in question is quite scarce. Please, do tell."

"Uhhh Video games," You laugh a little, reaching up to rub the back of your neck. " _That_ was my preferred weapon in a favorite game of mine."

"Ohhh. I see, I see! Truly you have an excellent taste in your selection of ordinance."

Pan stands with a stretch before carefully extracting the FG 42 from its shelter. He loops the strap over his shoulder before plunking back down into his office chair. He trails a lengthy finger as if he knows the gun intimately over its receiver.

"I obtained this gem a few years back," he starts with a contented sigh. He folds one leg over the other, boot waving up and down as he brings the gun up to his chest. "Won it in an auction house that was by invite only. After obtaining the knowledge that it was hand crafted by Krieghoff itself rather than mass produced I simply had to have it!"

"Kreegof?" You ask, leaning forward.

"Heinrich Krieghoff Waffenfabrik my dear. The high end manufacturers of this very Fallschirmjägergewehr 42 before your eyes."

"You say that naturally. If I tried to say any of that I'd butcher it," you giggle as you sit back from your stiflingly straight posture. "Are you German?"

Pan waggles his eyebrows in a dance as he chuckles, "What gave me away? Could it be my debonair ensemble? My dashing blue eyes? My glorious accent?!"

"Ummm all of the above..?" You hold you purse to your chest tighter as you crack a pained smile.

Pan croons his head as if he needs to register the compliment. That his face dawns with confusion at the flattery and it is as if he has never received something of the like before.

Just under his eyes flushes as he sits back. He looks down at his weapon with a thoughtful smile before scratching at the engravings of gold into the FN 42's stock. "You are far to kind liebling." He looks up through hooded eyelids and your heart skips a beat.

He is...really cute. His features are all sharp, yet around his jaw is soft and rounded to fill out his face nicely. His eyes are also pretty, they are a light shade of blue, the kind that look like he has an ocean caught in his iris.

That and the way he smiles is energetic. It is damn near contagious.

God you hope he is not a psycho.

"I-It's really cool!" Your eyes widen as do his. "The gun, the FG 42 I mean! Yeah, yeahh!"

Pan chuckles again as he looks between you and the rifle once more. "Do you possess any firearms?"

"Me? Oh, Oh no. Haha I've never even held a gun to be honest with you," You pause as he sits up, removing the FG 42's strap from his shoulder. "I mean I think they're great, I just nev--"

"Would you like to hold this one?" He offers as he stands, fingers running over the smooth barrel tauntingly.

He totally knows you want to hold it.

"R-really? Y-You're sure?" You ask as you excitedly toss your purse to the side. As you stand you brush off your slacks instinctively to free your hands of their sweat and any dirt.

"Haha, Jaja, certainly so! I do not mind so much as long as you are careful." As you step closer he places his free hand on your shoulder and motions for you to turn your back to him. You look between him and his entryway before thinking _'fuck it'_ and turning around.

Your eyes grow wide as you learn that this guy has no respect for personal boundaries. His body is pressed up against yours as he lifts the rifle over your head to loop the strap over your neck. Your arms shower in goose-skin as his warmth presents itself pleasantly across your body. You realize how cold his apartment is as he takes your hands in his to show you how to hold his prized vestige.

Just over the buzzing ionized scent permeating his home you can smell sandalwood and what you swear is the same fabric softener your mom uses. Oh crap, psycho is cute and he smells nice.

Fuck.

"Like this meine geliebte," Pan places the Fallschirmjägergewehr 42's stock just under your shoulder. He moves your hands accordingly, placing one under the barrel and the other just out of reach of the trigger. "Now then, we do not point this at anything unless we intend to erase it from existence."

"But it's not loaded, is it?" You ask as you look down, admiring the level of detail that has been put into not only making this weapon, but up-keeping it. It is also a lot heavier than you expected and you are thankful to have Pan helping you hold it upright.

"Always assume that a firearm is loaded meine dame," Pan moves a finger to the apex of the smooth muzzle, pressing it down for added effect to his statement. "This weapon is not loaded, nein. However I find it appropriate to always err on the side of caution as do others that enjoy collecting such relics of history."

"Kay," You whisper in acknowledgement as you try to peer down the sights. Pan lifts the muzzle back up so that you can and you chirp in gratitude. "This thing is wicked. It's one thing to use it in a game but to actually hold it for real? It's really awesome, thank you so much!"

"Ohhh you are most assuredly welcome! Ah it is not often that I come across an individual that can appreciate the finesse in such fine craftsmanship." Pan removes the weapon from your hold carefully. He places his treasure back upon its stand with delicate precision, as if he were handling a holy artifact over a gun.

"Fantastisch, Marvelous if I do say so! Meine schone blume I believe you and I shall get along quite swimmingly." Pan exclaims as he spins on a heel back to face you with a grin that equally has you terrified and charmed to him.

You nod as you reach a hand back to pat the couch for your purse. When your fingers graze your portfolio you extract the manila folder from your handbag and reach it towards Pan with hopeful eyes."You asked me to bring this for you?"

"Ja! Ja I did now didn't I? Danke liebling, now, let us see what talent lies beneath this very folder." Pan swiftly scans through your portfolio ranging of edited portrait photos, some text and document manipulation, and a general letter of recommendation your boss made for you some time ago. A gift from her when times were better for the company, something to say that she appreciated your dedication and should you ever need to leave you would have her good blessings.

Here is to hoping it does something for you.

Once content with processing the information before his eyes Pan slaps your portfolio to the side of his desk with a hearty _whap_. He resumes his obscure choice of seating as he once again straddles his swivel chair. With a flick of his wrist and a few taps on his ten key Pan's printer whirs to life and spits out a single piece of paper. Without looking he pinches it between two fingers and lays it over his keyboard.

Pan leans so far forward your direction that he is standing more than sitting. His chair is on its back wheels as he laughs a laugh that fills the entirety of his apartment.

"Would you fancy to perceive what I will be having you perform for me my soon to be accomplice?"

You swallow and shake your head yes reluctantly.

Psycho.

 

 

 

* * *

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psycho.


	8. Across the Universe part three

**✨  Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ Across the Universe ~

Part three

* * *

 

 

 

 

"...You want to hire me to do _what_ now?" You narrow your eyes sternly as you play a facade of seriousness. That you are not trembling as Pan smiles wider, eyes glistening with delight.

You would have never shown up for this absurd interview if you had known what you know now.

"I would like to make you my assistant and have you execute what you do best," Pan lifts a finger into the air, twirling it around as if he were spinning cotton candy. "The artful way in which you bend reality to fit your will. Manipulation! The very strategy of deceptive control! Ah yes, we are quite a like in that regard my dear."

"I edit photos and minor text documents! You...You mess with stock exchanges!" You throw your hand his way, palm upturned his direction. He chuckles and claps his hand against yours in a damn high five.

"And yet on the grand scheme of things do we not conduct the same set of skills?!" Pan reaches back with one hand to grab your portfolio. He then erratically plucks different images and dances them in the air as they flap about. "You edit digital information juuust as I do. Our aptitudes may be different, ja! And yet still it is in the technique of deceit that you find yourself in my treasure box."

"I'm here," You lean forward as you do your best to remain firm. "I'm here because I wanted a job, _not_ to become a criminal."

"I prefer...alternative employment. Besides~ it is only a crime if it is found out," He beams, his melodious voice matching his cocky expression. "And I have not been discovered in over twenty years! Why I am not even on radar for suspicion."

"...Why are you telling me all of this? I could turn you in ya know. I should turn you in!" You kick yourself back into his couch as you cross your arms over your chest. You eye him in a challenge that he meets with another dastardly grin.

"Dear one you were already my co conspirator the moment you stepped foot into my domain."

"And what do you _mean_ by that?" You tilt your head from the danger in his voice, brows furrowing in concern.

Pan draws on a long sigh as he reaches up to adjust his cap. He tilts the reflective steel tipped bill of his hat down so that his eyes are covered.

And then he smirks.

"six one eight, seven nine, four two four two." He breathes out on a titter.

"...Okay..?" You recite the numbers over in your head a few times. Bingo numbers? Like you give a shit...and then it _hits_ you like a freight train. Your blood runs cold. Your breathing hitches and your heart falls like a piano from a third story building.

You raise a hand over your mouth to silence a gasp. Pan glances up still fashioning himself with his shrewd expression. "502 Serpentine drive, License plate number SB420010, bank accou--"

"I-I get it." You say through a winded rasp. You feel like you have been running a marathon by the time the words escape from your throat. You look between him and his furthermost monitor and your lungs deflate like a zeppelin struck by lightning.

That is what he was doing earlier.

_..That is why he has all of this tech._

That while you were scanning his living room?

He was scanning your life.

Oh god he is not just a psycho; He is a _supreme_ psycho.

"Why...why me?" Your nostrils flare when he replaces his smug expression in favor of something less sinister. That as he sits up confidence pours off of his shoulders and you just hope to whatever god you believe in at this moment that he is not making ready to lock you in a concrete basement.

"Truly it is fate! Ah as soon as my eyes fell upon the delicate yet refractory composition of your resume lighting up my inbox?" To add insult to injury Pan grasps his mouse and with an enthusiastic click your resume pops into view. You wince at seeing its elaborate design, you should have just stuck with something traditional!

Wanting to be different has caught you in this spiders web.

You are _so_ fucked.

"It is indubitably rare to unearth character in the business world." Pan sighs romantically as he removes his cap, revealing his bald head that is comedically glossy and reflecting the ambient glow of his monitors. Pan flutters his cap up and down just inches from the tip of your nose in a taunting manner.

"..And you my iron lotus? You are what I _desire_ in an individual. Tell me, did you not want to be the crimson rose in a sea of grey? It is to my understanding that you did." Without breaking eye contact Pan swings his cap to his computer monitor, the stiff bill clacking against your resume. "I know zeal when I see it."

"I-I..." You stutter, heart ready to explode, forearms trembling, "I just wanted a job." Your head is swimming and he is the shark in your mind with a conquest for blood.

"And a job you have!" He exclaims as if he is announcing to the very world that you have won a Nobel prize, spreading his arms wide as he claims the air around him.

You inhale on a sigh that hurts your chest like you are infected with bronchitis. "How can you trust me this quickly? How do you know I won't just leave here and run to the authorities?"

"Call it intuition and mutually assured annihilation. Wellll...maybe not mutual darling however I do not favor in dealing with unsavory extortion unless absolutely necessary."

_Blackmail._

"..You're sick. You're a psycho." You whisper weakly, your head swaying from side to side in disbelief.

"Most geniuses do show forms of lunacy," Pan ponders out loud, reaching up to stroke his chin. "I suppose I am no exception to that rule." He states on a grin and turn of his head that slides down your spine in terror as you look between him and his entryway.

" _Please_ ," you reach a hand to your head to swipe away beads of sweat from your brow. "I don't want to take part in this. I won't say anything, I swear! I-I just want to go."

"Oh?" Pan pauses, posture failing him as his shoulders slump. "My dear do not look so despondent. True to theatrical nature I _always_ save the best for last. You have yet to view my proposal after all."

Pan plucks his freshly printed document from his keyboard, quickly flicking his wrist in the air so that the sheet is freed of any imperfections. As he lays it in your lap you go to press it away.

"There is nothing on that contract that---"

"I insist Holly. Do give it a once over if you would."

"I said I don't---" You turn the paper over with a scowl. You skim through the nonsense and before you can say more you just stop.

_Holy mother of god.  
_

_Is that...does that actually say?!_

Cha- _ching._

You quickly press the paper back into your lap, face down, looking away as if you were instead glancing at explicit material over nearing quadruple your old salary. It is also noted that that number? That is just the start of it. That with efficient progress he is more than happy to shell out incentives. This will not make you rich but damn it all if it would not make life a _lot_ nicer.

Everyone has a price and you are no exception.

You do need a job after all. You said so yourself.

"Ummm..." Your eyes hover over Pan as he grips the back of his office chair, nearly rocking the damn thing back and forth in titillation.

And then he giggles.

"As you were saying Liebling?"

"Do you...do you have a pen?" God, that is the worst shit eating grin you have ever worn.

His is worse.

"I do, I do in fact! Funny you should ask." With impressive motions Pan reaches into his breast pocket to reveal a sleek office pen that he then ripples over his fingers. As he offers you said pen he fits his cap over your head, humming the odd tune from earlier, and you are utterly mortified.

You have played into every trap he set for you unbeknownst to you until now.

Yep. You are fucked.

You have just signed your soul to the psycho, proof in the golden ink spelling your name with a Large H and the rest of your name small by comparison.

"Sooo...you um, well. You want me to edit stuff right? Yeah, I uh...yeahhh. I'm good at that stuff. Not too shabby." You stammer like a scratched disc as Pan files away your signature in victory.

"You are correct in that assumption my new assistant! Ahaha I cannot thank you enough, sincerely! I have already prepared an encrypted flash drive with what I require from you starting out. Simply allow time for installation on your home computer and read my instructions."

"You're uh, good with tech? Why do you need me?" You ask as he hands you the flash drive. You tuck it into the small rectangular pocket in your slacks and it barely fits.

Damn chubby thighs.

"I could take the time to educate myself on how to exploit such media in the way you do, that is true. However time is money and money in turn is time. Outside of my playground on NASDAQ's metaphorical front yard I also handle a lucrative clientele consisting of both, well, let us just say the masses are filled with colorful individuals."

"...colorful individuals?" You reach for your purse, scooping back in the contents that dispersed earlier when you cast it aside to handle his gun.

Which you have wondered about dashing over to grab and point at his ass. He says it is not loaded but it might be.

Always have a back up plan.

"Ja, the world is positively ripe with heroes and villains. And they allll need someone to call their friend. I my dear, I am that friend."

"...and now you need a friend."

"Ohhh now you are catching on young lady. That is certainly the case! That and I have admittedly worked solo for as long as I can remember. I figured it might be refreshing to take on an apprentice of sorts, to break up the monotony."

"Don't you mean an accomplice." You sneer.

"Mhmhmhm Protege, partner, accomplice, comrade, meine blume, and more with noble hope!" Pan lights up as he stands without warning, thrusting his hand up to his heart as he bends in a theatrical bow, "Why meine dame it is truly the hopes of any gentlemen to catch fire."

Your face grows warm as he upturns his palm your way. He gestures with his four fingers for you to stand with him and...wait? Four?

"Birth defect my lovely. Nothing to be fearful of. I promise I am actually quite harmless outside the dark web." He catches the peculiar look on your face that you quickly stow away with a sheepish wince.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"Think nothing of it." He says softly, assuredly, closing your hand in his. You look down at his fingers again but this time it is not in noticing that he is missing one. It is that his palms are just as slick with sweat as yours are.

For a moment your heart dances in your chest and you feel warm all over. That he has a really kind smile and when he blinks like that you almost forget that he's a complete _fucking psycho._

Oof.

Pan offers to escort you out and although you say a firm _'no, no thank you?'_ Yeahh you are not getting away that easy. Curiously enough he stops uncomfortably at the elevator, pressing the call button for you, but not entering the doors with you. He brings his hands up to his chest as his fingers press together a few times. He almost looks like a lost child in a grocery store as he looks around the short walk from his 'treasure box' and the elevator.

"You uh...you okay?" You ask, and you almost reach a hand to his forearm.

No, he is crazy. Do not do that.

"Uh, Ja. I-I am, well, could not be better in fact! A-Auf Wiedersehen until next time we gather!" Pan retrieves his cap from your head, fitting it back over his head clumsily. He then pats the top of your head much to your annoyance before he quite quickly dashes away and back to his dwelling, the coat on his back flapping about like linens out to dry.

"..What the fuck did I just get myself into." You mutter under your breath, pushing your finger against the tattle for the lobby. As soon as the doors shut you reach down to take off your high heels because your feet are killing you.

Your purse is noticeably lighter without your portfolio so you sneak your stilettos inside. The drive home sucks barefoot but it is better than the burning in your aching tendons at wearing those evil things any longer.

_Yeet!_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Seriously what the fuck did you just get yourself into?!

Your computer is practically chugging peanut butter as it struggles to handle the thirteen hour download of all of Pan's dastardly deeds that need, well, you do not know what yet. You will find that out in the morning.

You roll lethargically into your bed, pulling up your phone. Damn, it is at twelve percent and your charger is half way across the room. Mph, lazy. You do not want to get up and twelve percent should get you through at least two of this new games review.

If it is any good you are totally gonna buy it with your first pay check from your bat shit boss.

You fall asleep before the commentator can say anything good about the game. The smell of sandalwood and laundry soap aids in your quick drift off to Neverland, it is familiar in a calm way and you do not know why...

 

 

* * *

 

 

🎇💙 Thank you for your Kudos, Bookmarks, and Comments! 💙🎇 

 

 

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[Deviantart](https://www.deviantart.com/download077)

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Supreme psycho._


	9. Across the Universe part four

**✨  Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ Across the Universe ~

Part four

* * *

 

 

 

Pan falls back into his suede lounge and kicks his boots up and onto his swivel chair. The remote to his left bounces up like a child on a trampoline and he snatches it mid air with a content chuckle. Without looking he reaches a long arm over to his keyboard, types in a few command prompts, and his monitors cycle off for the night.

Surely he can indulge himself in some recreational time. He has earned it after all! After the days successes of not only completing some rather dubious activities for some less than favorable characters and acquiring a new protege he feels entitled to some time of luxury.

And what better than to treat himself than to enjoy ah, ja, a favored past time historical documentary on---!

_\--Ohoho what is this?!_

Pan winces in discomfort, adjusting his seating at the feeling of something jabbing into his right thigh. Obviously a book, however he does not recall leaving out any of his preferred reading material. The texture is unrecognizable and odd as he digs it out from under himself and the ever devouring pocket of his couch cushions. Unusual. Peculiarly thin as well and _Ach du lieber Gott!_

With curious wonder Pan holds up the notebook covered in rhinestones and neon stickers that have bubbled with age. It does not take him long to realize _what_ is in his grasp as he runs a finger over the worn spine of the booklet. “Liebling!” Pan exclaims as he shakes the notebook, “Why, you have forgotten your diary!”

Pan’s heart knocks around in his rib cage as his eyes dance over Holly’s journal. His fingers tingle. He sucks at his teeth as he, no, he can not! He absolutely can not! A true gentleman would never invade a ladies privacy!

His shoulders slump as he folds forward, rotating the booklet in thought. Pan slants his eyes as he accusingly glares around the vast space of his front room. _No one would know..._

A thought strikes him as he shoots back up, boots stomping on the ground, and it is as if a light bulb has appeared above his head. Of course! He can just forward her a text message! She can come and retrieve her personal, he can see her _again,_ and he will not have to bear the thought of disrespecting her secrecy!

Oh how he wants to just take a peek inside though!

Well, that settles it. Decision made, he is going to shoot her a text! Sure she did not provide him with her number under conventional methods, but regardless, he has it. Pan hums to himself as he fishes his phone from his coat pocket, finger swiping over the lock screen and what?! Midnight?! Ah! He can not message her this late, he is a man of courtesy after all!

Pan slaps Holly’s diary face down onto his couch, palm pressing a top its smooth back. He tosses his head back as his free hand grips at his chest. “How do I find myself in such a treasonous situation to my very morals?!” Pan monologues in a huff, ”To look or not to look, that is the question of the midnight hour!”

…..She would not have to know _per se’_. But he would know! What to do, what to do?! Pan places a finger over his lips in thought, eyes darting between his hand atop her diary and nowhere in particular. His mind races.

Social security numbers and bank account information are fun data to collect, but...what is her favorite color? Genre of music? What other guns could she have a preference for? She undeniably has refined tastes such as his…

Pan opens and closes the back cover as he keeps his inquisitive eyes away. His face tightens. It is through chance alone, he is sure, that he stumbled across a talented apprentice that duos as a pretty young lady. A sappy smile forms under his finger as he can still feel her auburn hair tickling his chin as he adjusts his Fallschirmjägergewehr 42 strap over her shoulders.  His veins feel replaced by maple syrup at the thought of her smile as she peeks down the iron sights.

That and she..she was _warm._ So different than the necessary frigid climate of his apartment for his electronics. It is why he wants to know something _more_. Knowledge is undeniably power and with that key maybe...

Face flushed Pan turns back to Holly’s journal. He leers around his room again, sappy smile curving crooked. If it just so happened to open on accident and purely by coincidence he saw a page it would not be betraying her or his code of honor…

Pan gulps as he agonizingly, yet slowly, begins to drag his wrist in slow movements against Holly’s diary. He whistles a non incriminating tune, looking away, as the booklet inches closer...closer...closer…

Holly’s diary falls to the ground with a soft sound and a flap of pages.

Oops!

Such a travesty!

Pan grins like a mad hatter. He claps his hands on his knees excitedly, body snapping forward, eyes homing in on the sprawled and exposed pages of the journal on his floor.

...And then his maniacal expression softens considerably. Pans posture relaxes. His lips part to sharply allow in a bit of air as he reaches ahead, finger ghosting over the image below spread across both pages before him.

It is..it is not a diary. It is an art book.

She’s an _artist._

“Ohhh geliebte…” Pan breathes out as he brings the sketch book into his lap. He trails a nail over the delicate yet deliberate lines of a serpent consuming its own tail. Without thought Pan makes his way through the other surreal illustrations. With each page he turns he can see a story. Every scratch, smudge, and eraser mark only adds to the tale he builds in his mind.

Dolphins in space, upside down yet still functioning hot air balloons, pirate ships with butterfly sails...

Forgetting all about the documentary Pan spends the rest of his night thumbing through Holly’s artwork. He forsakes retiring to his bedroom, favoring falling asleep here, chest rising and falling peacefully as he keeps a hand on her sketch pad.  

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

You lazily glance around your messy bedroom. You eye a laundry basket in the corner overflowing with clean clothes. Well, as clean as clean gets. If you have only worn something once or twice it is still decent to wear around society, right?

You figure you can get away with your favorite black t shirt and some reliable denim blue jeans for the day. For your shirt? Until they make something darker than black you will stick with it as your go to. Helps hide that little pouch of tummy fat that no one needs to know about. Shhh.

You rub at your eyes as warm light floods in through your window blinds. Ugh, what time is it? You yawn as you fumble around for your phone, finding that it has made its way to somewhere on the floor. Damn thing must have bounced off of your bed like a fish desperately splashing about to escape its bowl.

You kick off your comforter as you play a game you have labeled as _where did my damn phone go this time._ Like a claw crane your hand searches for the prize that is your cell phone.

You pick up a fork. Not your phone. You toss it under your bed because you do not give a shit.

You grab something long, slender, and smooth that starts to gyrate wildly. Oh! Oh well, uh, that is _definitely_ not your phone. You set that to the side because that you do give a shit about.

You finger a few empty energy drink cans to the dark chasm that is the world beneath your bed. Hopefully that same monster you fear that will eat your feet if you do not keep them covered at night will enjoy some junk? Surely that will satiate the beast for a time.

Aha! You snatch up the familiar leather wallet case that has your phone nestled just inside. It was an impulse purchase you made a few months back. Cute little thing, really. Dusted with silver leaf, engraved with an oak tree that has petite blue rhinestones for leaves. Unfortunately the shimmer has began to fade from prolonged use, but hey, it serves its purpose. Aesthetic and functional.

You scratch your lower back as you sit up and swipe a thumb over your screen. You raise a brow as a white text box with to many emoticons pops into existence with a familiar _ping!_ This looks like one of those texts that you get every so often from a rival phone service provider. Switch now for some bullshit offer! Hurry now before it is too late! Save big!

Go away.

Your eyes glaze over the digital clock on your phone as you ignore the text. Oh. It is uh, yeah. It is a quarter past eleven in the morning. It is time to get out of bed, rise and shine!

...More like roll out and stumble clumsily. Eh. You raise your arms high in a stretch and a roar of a yawn before plopping down into your desk chair. You twirl your frayed white cord around before sliding the thin sliver charger into your phone’s port. You fold your legs under yourself as you tap your space bar.

You sigh in exasperation in recollection of yesterday. You never planned to be a criminal, but here you are!  Hey, at least the job is going to pay well. He hasn’t been caught in over twenty years and he seems smart albeit creepy as all hell...You should be fine, right?

Right…

Your computer blares with another warning message that you once again ignore. No, not right now. You can update later. At least it finished downloading all of Pan’s workload for you during the night, so now you can see what he needs and _Holy crap?!_

You lean forward with squinting eyes as the glow of your monitor paints your face. You skim through the directions with a roll of your index finger against your mouse wheel. Your forehead creases as your eyes widen the more you read. Holy crap indeed! There is a lot of work to be done. Like, a lot a lot. No wonder he offered to pay so much!  Psycho slapped you with half a terabyte worth of photos and text documents that all need as he colorfully explains _‘changed’._

You spend the next few hours giving his instructions a detailed once over, then a second viewing before queuing up some editing software to get to work. He might be crazy but luckily? Everything he wants done is in your expertise. You would rather work for Pan than at a fast food restaurant with screaming children, dirty mop buckets, and hot fry grease.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

So whoever this competitive cell phone provider is, or whomever is spamming you with a surplus of emoticons in hopes of catching your attention to buy something is _not_ letting up. It is now minutes past three in the afternoon and they have been blasting your phone with a message each hour nearly on the hour. What gives?

No, you do not want to change services or buy whatever! Go away! Ugh!

You quick save your work and wips. Your computer’s asthmatic CPU struggles to rasterize layers and flatten images as you fiddle about with your phone. Maybe this company has a text back 4444 or some code to make these annoying ass messages stop?

You open up the text, half amused to even see what is so desperately trying to be sold.

….And now you want to crawl under your bed and ask if the demon collector of eclectic items such as paper plates and soda cans wants to add you to his hoard. A black hole opens up in your chest and is starting to swallow you up as you spin around in your chair and away from your computer screen. You stare at the wall for a few moments as you try to process the fact that those messages are _not_ from someone trying to sell you something.

They are from your boss.

 

 

 

 

**🌺** 🌺🌺❤️❤️❤️ **🌹🌹🌹** ❤️❤️❤️ **🌷🌷🌷**

_Guten Morgen Holly!_ **😊**

 _My dear I regret to inform you that you have had the slightest oversight of mind. Upon leaving my humble abode you failed to retrieve your art book. However! Fear not! Rest assured that your treasure is safe within my care. Ah, and ja! I have already come up with the perfect solution! All you have to do is simply enter the pass code **✨  **8894 **✨  **in the elevator at my apartment complex. That is the key to you collecting back what is rightfully yours! Shall we say...five thirty pm again? _ **😉**

_ Received at 8:03am  
_

 

 

 

 

Great. Fan-fucking-tastic! He has your sketchbook on top of everything else! How did this happen?! When did it…? You breathe in sharply as you remember tossing your purse to the side of his couch to hold his Fallschirmjägergewehr 42. It must have slipped out... _Oh no_.

Is that why your purse was so light?! Why you were able to fit your heels inside?! How could you not have noticed?! Oh goddd, he is going to use this as blackmail later. You can feel it in your bones. You grimly go through the rest of his messages and you are unsure if you feel creeped out or oddly endeared to him by his worry that you are not messaging him back.

You _just_ met this dude. Yeah, okay, this is weird. Well, fair enough, maybe he is worrying since he gave you such sensitive information and he is trying to win you over with odd affection? Nevertheless it is sweet but…

He’s a psycho.

You hover over the reply button. Why are you nervous?

 

 

 

 _ Hey Pan, sorry I left my note pad at your place. And yeah, haha I sleep in sometimes and do not always check my phone so my bad for not getting back to you sooner. And sure I can swing by around five thirtyish to get my stuff, thank you for letting me know I left it. _ **😎**

_ Sent at 3:09pm _

 

 

 

You type out, delete, retype, type out, delete, and retype a few messages before deciding on that one. Better to be casual, just play it _cool_. You shuffle on your clothes, forsaking socks as you slip your feet into your beat up grey sneakers. You wiggle your big toe that sticks out a bit on your left shoe as you smirk. Man, your mom hates these things and has been begging you to either let her buy you new ones or to get some yourself. Heh, half the reason why you don’t is kept in the amusement of her wrinkled face every time she sees you in them.

Teehee.

And as expected when you check your phone Pan has _already_ messaged you back. Just like the email. That you are still debating with yourself if you regret submitting that over zealously detailed piece of crap to somehow be picked up by Pan Darsteller. You run a hand through your hair as you read through his texts of to many emotes. Damn, just looking at all of this makes you feel tired. Ugh. You are going to need something stronger than an energy drink to make it through another encounter with Pan.

So you head out to your car with a cocaine hankering for some caffeine. And what better way to feed that need than spending money you do not have on an expensive espresso?

 

* * *

 

🎇💙 Thank you for your Kudos, Bookmarks, and Comments! 💙🎇 

 

 

[Tumblr](https://download077.tumblr.com/)

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gods I love writing this little off shoot. I apologize for nothing. 🤣


	10. Across the Universe part five

**✨  Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ Across the Universe ~

Part five

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

You pick at the pieces of sun bleached fabric on your steering wheel cover. Your engine hums loudly as you sit with your foot on the brake, waiting in the drive thru line at the local coffee shop. You mournfully poke at the faded blue button that many years ago worked as a means of turning on the air conditioning. Now it mocks you. At least the fans still work. Sadly they only cycle in the hot air from outside but some breeze is better than no breeze.

Even if it feels like Satan himself is breathing down your neck.

Thankfully you had the foresight to load up on enough deodorant to satiate a yak.

The woman ordering in front of you is taking forever and the man behind you has his speakers thumping with enough bass for a sold out R&B concert.

Fuck these people.

You watch the clock on your center console as sweat drips down your nose. Every minute that passes you think about cranking your steering wheel as far right as it’ll allow and hitting the gas so you can jump the curb and get out of this mess.

Ugh, finally. Soccer mom with a fleet of kids in her minivan has pulled up. You roll down your window and fling the beads of sweat off your forehead as you order.

No, you do not want to try their promotional frappuccino with caramel _wait yes you do that actually sounds really good._

Do you want whip cream? Who do they think they are trifling with? Of course you do.

Do you want anything else?

...Ugh! Don’t do it.

It’d be _rude_ to show up to his place and have something for you and not him. That and you can be a kiss ass off the bat. Score some brownie points early on and maybe when you piss him off later he won’t sell your social to the highest bidder on the dark web.

Shit, what does he like though? Is he one of those fancy types that only drinks tea? Would he like a frappuccino? What if he hates coffee? Decisions, decisions…

The man behind you honks his horn. Asshole! You honk back.

You get Pan a house coffee and resist the urge to flip the man behind you the bird as you pull forward.

You lean out your window to feel the cool air billowing out from behind the cashier's window. Ah, it feels better than nice. The neatly hung _‘For hire’_ sign written in cursive pink and blue ink on the sliding window flutters as you hand the woman behind the counter your card. The _‘For hire’_ sign is really eye catching the longer you stare at it as she processes your payment. Either they paid someone to hand draw a whimsical version of the building or whoever wrote in cursive is the artist and has more talent in their pinkie than you can ever hope to have.

As the cashier hands you back your card she catches you gawking at the artwork on the sign and smirks. You raise an eyebrow and crack a half smile. She then scribbles something on both of your drinks and hands them to you with a wink and a smile. You blush as you thank her and pull out of the drive through.

You hit your blinker right, but before you pull out and onto the bustling streets you check and see what she wrote. Written in ink that flows seamlessly from pink to blue in a swirling cursive is the name _CandyIce._ The Candy in neon pink, the Ice in raspberry blue.

Wait a sec. She was the artist!

Holy crap, that’s so rad!

You take a struggling sip of your frap because whoever made it made it right. It is thick like a milkshake made of wet cement and won’t melt by the time you get to the tenth floor of Pan’s apartment. At least you do not have to worry about his coffee getting cold, not with it being hotter than the devils armpit outside.

With no traffic, all your windows down, and a crows nest for hair you make it to the apartment complex on GraveStone way entirely to early. Pan said five thirty and you are sitting in the parking lot anxious and jittery at a little past four. You skid by on the skin of your teeth last time by hitting five thirty on the mark. So you did not want to risk being late, even though this is just a casual pick up of your notebook rather than an interview.

You mix the whip cream with the smooth and blended parts of your frap. You take a long slurp as you inch your phone across your thigh. Well, you can sit here and sweat or you can message him and say you are here early and would like to come up. You groan as you hold your cool drink up to your forehead in thought.

You tap your phone and shoot Pan a text message that you untype and retype more times than you would like to admit. Hopefully he does not see those three little dots indicating you have been hesitating and typing this short message for the last ten minutes.

Just play it _cool._

 

 

 

 

 

_ Hey there!  😎  Soo I may or may not be early? Like in the parking lot early, lol. Do you mind if I come up or are you busy?  _

_ Seen at 4:07pm _

 

# 

_ Here already?! 😮✨ Wunderbar! There is no need sweltering in your vehicle with the days climbing temperatures. Please, do come in!_

_ Received at 4:07pm _

 

_ Awesome, thanks! I’ll see you in a sec.  _

_ Seen at 4:08pm _

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, that wasn’t so bad. You fumble with your car keys as you hook the metallic D ring that keeps them all together on a belt loop. The sun beats down on the asphalt as you walk briskly across the parking lot, sucking on your drink the entire time for relief from the heat. You could possibly fry an egg on this hardened black tar and your feet throb in thanks as you enter the apartment complex.

 A chipper _ding!_ sounds off in welcome as you step inside. You are greeted by the pleasant scent of window cleaner from busy maids and the delightfully crisp cool air that keeps the building regulated for its tenants comfort. _Ahh._

You make your way to the elevator as you repeat 8-9-4-4 in your head so you do not absent mindedly forget Pan’s pass code. You are still going to check your phone to be sure. You place Pan’s coffee in the crook of your forearm as you reach to dig your phone out of your back pocket…

Oh **_shit._ **

You stop dead in your tracks, half way into the lobby as the elevator doors begin to close before you. Your blood runs cold as you suck on your drink so hard that you could have slurped up a golf ball through that small green straw. Your face is impossibly tight, and you are sure you look like that generic caricature that all sour candy companies use as a logo to show just how tart their goods are.

You wince and shrivel like a raisin as two eyes with the capability to raze a nation sneer at you, or rather, _through_ you. As the doors close the man adjusts his glasses with a push of a gloved black hand.

Only the doors _don’t_ close. A pitying smile canvases a woman’s face inside the elevator as she reaches out a slender arm to keep the doors from shutting. You close your eyes and wonder if it is possible for lightning to strike you dead on a clear and sunny July afternoon. Just strike you now, through the apartment and straight into your next life. Possibly the life after that because death is the preferred alternative to this situation you have found yourself in.

_Record Scratch._

_Freeze frame._

So, how did you find yourself in this predicament again?

Oh yeah! You did not hold the door open for these people. And now, they are holding the door open for you. Because you are an asshole.

Are you standing in quicksand? You think you are standing in quicksand. You hope you are in quicksand. Fuuuuck. Reluctantly you shamble forward as you try to not make a single sound. You avoid eye contact as you select the tenth floor and quickly type in 8-9-4-4. You hope they are getting off on the second floor and not something like the seventh or higher.

“Oh? Do you know Pan?” The color drains from your face as you turn to face the kind voice directed at you.  Crap. Of course, of course they know your boss!

“Yeahhh. I uh, I work for him now.” You nod your head as you look down to her converse. “I’m..I’m really sorry about yesterday. I was just in a hurry, I didn’t want to be late to my interview! It’s just I really needed a job and he said be on time and--”

“Breathe girl it’s okay,” She laughs and the man next to her scoffs, “So you work for Pan? That’s awesome! It’s nice to see him branching out. So, what’s your name?”

You resist the urge to tell her your name is _‘Thanks for asking, I’m asshole’_ , “Um, Holly. Yours?”

“Mira,” The way she says her name is the sound the sun would make if it could sigh when shining through clouds, “And this is Demiurge. Say hi Demiurge.”

“...Pleasure.” Demiurge responds, his voice and strict presence filling the rest of the free space in the elevator. Dear lord this man is terrifying. Just avoid looking at him.

“Nice to meet you guys,” This elevator is unnaturally slow, or is it that this is incredibly awkward? “So, uh, Pan. Yeah, is he cool? Cause, ya know…” Regardless of how painful this is, this is your chance to find out more about Pan and if your boss is actually psychotic. His neighbors would know.

“Mr. Darsteller is nothing more than eccentric. Outside of his career choices he is for the most part innocuous,” Demiurge leans forward your way with an arched brow. His nose upturns as he seems to growl, “You are… _uncomfortably_ familiar.”

Holy fucking shit. This dude is intense. You lean away from him as your nostrils burn from the scent of sulfur and smoke. It isn’t cigarette smoke though, he smells like actual _fire_. “Do you ever uh, frequent the local mall? I used to work at the photography shop and--”

“No.” Demiurge turns away, clearly fixated on the elevators hall lanterns. Mira’s eyes roll with an amused hum. She sweeps back her chestnut colored hair out of her face, and you both share a small giggle as her hair only falls back to frame her cheeks.

 _Ding!_ The doors open up on the seventh floor. “Well, this is our stop!” Demiurge walks forward, his arm assuring that the elevator stays open for Mira. “It was nice to meet you. Will you tell Pan we said hi?” You nod as Mira exits with a soft wave of her hand. As the doors close Demiurge gives you a last look that seems to size you up before he turns away to follow closely to Mira’s right.

You furiously tap the button panel prompt for the doors to close. Holy crap you thought Pan was bad? You will take your psycho boss over Demiurge the resident demon man of the seventh floor any day of the week. Seriously Mira was a total angel compared to him.

You use the elevator cabins sleek reflective walls to fix your hair. You balance yours and Pan’s drink like a professional trapeze artist as you pull away at tangles from the car ride here. You lick your palm and clean off your forehead while fingering at your bangs. You need to carry a hair tie with you in the summer. You never learn.

You dart to Pan’s door in hopes of not having any more _encounters._ You take in a deep breath because Pan is an encounter himself after all. Here we go. You give his door three polite knocks with the back of your hand. You take a step back as you hear Pan unlocking his many dead bolts and chain locks.

The door flies inward and Pan steps out with a phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He grabs your shoulder without so much as a look as he whisks you inside like a bear would its cub. With one hand Pan secures his latches and bolts while speaking sternly in a language you do not understand. The other is busy as he flips through several notarized documents on a thick metal storage clipboard.  

His harsh tone sets your teeth on edge. Your stomach knots as you take a silent sip of your drink as you watch Pan wrap up what you are assuming is a conference call of sorts. You press yourself up against his hall like a wall flower in an attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

Pan repeats the same sentence a few times as he reads off a paragraph from the last page on his clipboard. His blue eyes narrow as he whispers what might be a threat, yeah, that totally sounded like a threat.

Looks like he has won because now his lips are curving up into a smug smirk. Pan cackles as he claps his clipboard around in the air, seemingly successful in whatever he was trying to accomplish. He turns to you as his shoulders raise up in victory.

He winks his left eye at you with a mad grin as he ends the call. “Ahaha vergib mir Holly, just tidying up some loose business threads.”

You laugh nervously, “Is everything uh, alright? You sounded kinda...mad.”

“Nein my dear, German is just a passionate language. I was simply reminding a distinguished patron of a previous arrangement that he has engaged himself in with a...how should I say...precarious associate of a friend of a friend of mine.”

“Oh, kayyy,” Yeah that is kinda scary. “Here, it sounds then like you could maybe use one of these?” You reach the coffee cup his way with a hopeful smile, “You uh, might wanna nuke it though. I think it has cooled down since I bought it.”

Pan tucks his clipboard under his arm while slipping his phone away into his suit pants pocket. He takes the cup carefully with both hands, lips jerking up and down in a really cute sappy smile. “Ohh, how thoughtful, truly. Danke my dear..” Pan lifts the drink to his mouth, then to his nose as he sniffs it.

“I promise I didn’t poison it.” You chuckle.

Pan hums a chuckle of his own as he takes a sip. Your eyes squeeze shut as you struggle not to laugh as Pan sticks his tongue out at his coffee with an accompanying _bleh! “_ I didn’t know what to get you,” You giggle. “So I just went with black so you might wanna add some stuff to it.”

Pan shakes his head as he stares at the drink as if it has offended him. You follow him into the vast expanse of his modern kitchen as he opens a cupboard. Carelessly yet with a sense of precision he wiggles his fingers through a variety of vials of spices until he brings out a slender tube of sugar.

Which he then liberally pours into his coffee. Your smile grows wider the longer he pours, and you almost think he is about to dump the whole damn thing in just before he stops.

“So I see you like your sugar with a little bit of coffee yeah? I’m the same way. I’m a total fiend for sweets.” You are sure if you stay employed with him for a good period of time he will find out about your stash of candies you hide in that secret pouch in your purse.

Pan twirls his coffee in one of his wide palms, stirring it as one would aerate a fine wine. “Mmm it is to my tastes that all the finer things in life are sweet.” Your suck at your frap and it makes a loud and grating sound as Pan stares at you, unblinking, and takes the first sip of his own drink.

You swallow hard as your face dusts pink, and suddenly his apartment feels really warm. “You uh…creamer, milk?” You gesture with your cup between Pan and his fridge.

Pan whimpers as he straightens his posture. He takes a long sip of his coffee before popping it into the microwave above his stove top. “Unfortunately I am sensitive to dairy and its by products.”

“Oh that really blows!” You swirl your straw around as Pan reheats his coffee. “Is it that you are lactose intolerant?”

Pan slaps a hand over his heart as he belts out a melodramatic sigh, “You are absolutely correct liebling. I suppose it is my punishment for being such a debonair gentleman of intellect and style~!”

You shake your head in pity, “I don’t know if I could give up cheese.”

You would rather die than give up cheese.

“Oh my dear do not remind me,” Pan retrieves his coffee, lips fanning carefully over the piping hot liquid as he blows away a small sheet of steam. “A secret between you and I is that once a year I indulge myself and then break out in a chronic set of vicious hives.”

“Only once a year?” You tease, scanning his kitchen for a trash can as you finish your drink.

Pan simply wiggles his eyebrows seemingly entertained. His expression brightens as he lifts a finger into the air, “Mhmhmhm!” He hums through a sip, “Now then, allow me to retrieve why you came here in the first place.” Before heading off Pan notices the plight in your eyes, and without asking he plucks your emptied drink and carelessly flicks it over his shoulder.

Holy shit it somehow makes it into the trashcan cuddled up close to the left of his fridge without spilling a drop.

That was cool! He has totally practiced that.

Pan taps your forearm as he walks past you, fingernails tickling across your shirt. As he struts away you realize just how tall he is, or, how short you are. You stand about as high as his mid bicep, where as before with stilettos you were at least at his shoulders. You hold back a smile as again the thought skirts over your mind that he either is a civil war reenactor in his free time or he just likes dressing up.

Today’s choice of attire is a form fitted ebony suit, white collared under vest, and an indigo tie. The left side of his chest is littered in colorful medals ranging from some that are just pins to others that hang off of his person. His pants are neatly tucked into the same boots he was wearing from yesterday. His hat is also the same. The same one he put on your head when he scared the daylights out of you.

He still kinda scares the daylights out of you.

Well, maybe he actually has somewhere to be? This outfit is quite a bit more elaborate than the last one, and you might think that he is a veteran of sorts. Maybe he has a military ball he is getting ready for?

“You’re dressed really nicely,” You point out at as he straddles his office chair, arms hanging over the cushioned leather back as he waves your art book at you with a grin. “Are you...heading somewhere tonight? I can get going, I don’t mean to hold you up.”

“Come now do not be silly,” Pan smacks your sketchbook against the plum sofa to his right a few times. You plop down and he sets your sketch pad in your lap. “I do not leave the safety of my residence unless _absolutely_ necessary. Besides if I did have a formal event that required my physical presence I would have requested your accompaniment.”

“Oh boy I dunno. I’m already your accomplice and now you want me as a bodyguard?” You hold your art book to your chest as you cross one leg over the other. Your laugh catches in your throat as you blurt out, “I mean I’ve got a mean right hook but that’ll cost ya.”

Pan leans forward as he interlocks his fingers. “I would not dream to involve you in a reckless scuffle. Nein meine geliebte, rather that I would wish to display you more as a jeweled boutonniere. I am a certified individual of genteel taste after all.”

Despite the cool air blowing in from the polished vents in his flooring Pan’s apartment feels like an oven. You scratch at your neck with a timid smile. “So um...I think your uniform is cool. Yeahhh, uh, were, were you in the military?” God you are so cringey. You lift an index finger to point at the decorum on his chest and Pan’s shoulders shimmy in pride.

“As expected you are one to process details quickly. Ja, from the ripe young age of eighteen until thirty four I was enlisted as a serviceman to the armed forces.”

“Oh wow! That long huh? That’s really admirable, um, what branch were you in?” You ask as you lean forward, releasing the death grip on your sketchpad.

Pan lifts a finger up and shakes it back and forth with an amused song in his voice. “Ah ah ah~ Quid pro quo liebling.”

“Huh?”

“A courteous exchange of information Holly. If you aspire to know about myself then rest assured that I crave to understand who you are as well.”

You throw your hand at his computer monitor, your art book completely forgotten as you laugh through a growl, “Hey now that is totally not fair! You already know a bunch about me that I didn’t give you permission to know!”

Ugh, the audacity of this dude!

Pan roars with laughter as he kicks a leg out and spins in a full circle in his swivel chair. His boots stomp on the ground as he stops his personal Ferris wheel and he claps his hands together excitedly, “And yet you know positively nothing about me and you can not deny that you wish to satisfy that curiosity do you not?! Who is this enigma before you _really_?! If you would desire to entertain the thought of who I may be then I beseech you Quid pro quo~.”

You scoff as you toss your body back into his couch. He lifts his eyebrows in waiting and you suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

“....Fine,” You would not lie that you were having fun, so you smile dangerously as you mock his shimmying shoulders with your own. “What do you want to know?”

 

* * *

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are... _uncomfortably_ familiar. 
> 
> [How I feel about this series.](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/547579274102702081/568574422718349315/image0.jpg) _Thank you Kensalyn._ 💛


	11. Across the Universe part six

**✨  Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ Across the Universe ~

Part six

* * *

 

 

 

You did not plan on staying here this late, eating take out, laughing until you are red in the face as Pan impersonates what someone from Tijuana sounds like at 3am when they have lost their electricity.

However when you two lost track of time and he suggested Chinese take out? Like hell you were going to turn down free food. That and this guy knows how to tell a story.

You just want to know more. From his exciting position in the Air Force as a special intelligence agent all the way to him leaving just four years before retiring because he was bored. _Bored._ That he believed he could accomplish more on his own, generate a higher income, and well, he does all of those things so he wasn’t exactly wrong.

Yet every time you go to ask him more? He dances his eyebrows and you scoff.

“Blue,” You answer through a mouthful of orange chicken, wiping your thumb at the corner of your mouth to clean away some dripping sauce. “You?”

Pan looks up in thought as he twirls his fork around in his carton of chow mein. “I am particularly fond of yellow, buuuut here of late I seem to have an affinity for red. Music?”

“Kinda depends on what mood I’m in. Sometimes I like rock and others I like classical,” Your face breaks out with a smirk as you lean forward, “and If I want to irritate my mother I like electro pop. Loud. Your turn.”

“On notable flights such as ones from the states to Dubai I grew to appreciate symphonic harmonies from the classical genres aristocratic era. I do concur with you my dear though, I too enjoy a wide variety of melodies. I would stake to claim that I at the very least fancy something from every category. Now then, let us seee, hmmm, Ah! Jaja, Tell me for I did not ask during our interview, what happened with your previous employment?” Pan swings both of his boots up onto the arm of his couch as he relaxes into his office chair.

You reach over his shoes to grab your drink as he slurps in his chow mein. He is so casual despite his appearance and the fact that he is now your boss. It is pretty damn cool.

“What if I told you I was fired for embezzlement?” You try to say seriously, placing your straw in your mouth to quickly hide your cheeky grin.

Pan waves his fork at you as he chuckles. “Then we have further in common than I originally considered!”

You shake your head as you set your drink back on its coaster. “Nonono, I wasn’t canned for stealing money. I kid. I actually...wasn’t fired. Ya know the little photography shop in the mall? Yeah, it closed outta nowhere yesterday. Most likely due to corporate greed, smartphones becoming back pocket cameras, and we were crazy expensive.”

“Yesterday you say?! I was aware that your resume was posted the same day I caught glimpse of it, yet to understand why!? How thrilling!  Ahaha why meine dame this new arrangement of ours truly was fated!”

“I still don’t understand why you need me,” You push around the last piece of chicken in your carton, swimming it around its sticky sauce. “You’re like the Swiss army knife of tech and stuff.”

“Indeed Holly, I am a man of many techniques and talents! However,” Pan reaches a long arm over to your purse as he snatches up your art book before you can say _Hey!_ “Although I posses many tools of the trade among other influential strengths you my protege, you hold life’s most effectual weapon.”

“Um...what do you mean by that?”

“Creativity! Simply put dear the world is your canvas.” Pan trades his carton of Chinese for a pencil as he flips your art book open. You inhale sharply as he ghosts the lead point over lines of one of your portraits. Mother fucker better not be...oh, okay. He is just demonstrating. Phew.

No need to go postal on him.

“The pen is mightier than any armament. I may be like that of a Swiss army knife but you? Ahhh you are a paintbrush. And that! _That_ is why I need you. I require an individual that can compliment both my strengths and weaknesses.”

“That’s…uh, well. Really nice of you to say, wow. T-Thank you.” You tuck some hair behind your ear as you chew on the inside of your cheek. Wait, are you blushing? Fuck. You plop the last morsel of orange chicken into your mouth to disguise your growing flush.

“Nein liebling do not thank me, I simply can not permit my young protege to not comprehend her value! I do say that--” Pan pauses as his phone begins to vibrate against his desk. He sighs as he flips it over to ignore the coming call and his eyes bulge.

“...Is everything okay?” You ask as you dig your phone out of your purse. Your mouth goes crooked as you see several missed calls and texts from your mother, and most importantly, the _time._

It is a quarter past two in the morning.

Time is often so easily lost when you are having fun.

..Which is why you shoot your Mom a text that you are fine. It is also why you stay until the sun rises because just one more question is the start of many.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

You think you can pick up on someone calling your name, but your headphones drown out the sound as they blast your favorite music. You turn that shit up and soon all you can hear is bass and treble. You remember to blink as you lean away from your computer monitor. You rub at your dry eyes as you save the last of your edits for Pan for the day.

You hold your cursor over the music drive pumping out your sweet tunes. Once the chorus is over you are going to play it again because this is your jam. Before you can indulge in listening to the same song for the millionth time today you shriek as your chair is spun around and your earbuds are ripped off of your head. A few strands of hair follow suit and you whine with a scowl.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened!?” You belt out an exasperated sigh as your mother’s husky smokers voice grates your ears. Blonde hair meant to hide the coming of unwanted grey frames her face. Years of tanning and alcohol make her appear all the more tired, but as she stares at you with hazel eyes made of daggers you know she is very much so alive.

You have been avoiding her. She knows you have been avoiding her and you know that she knows. She purses her lips disapprovingly and the bags of a hard life weigh down her eyes.

You are not getting out of this one.

You wave your hand in front of you to try to be nonchalant about the matter. “Sorry Ma I’ve been busy. Charming Designs finally went under and by the luck of god I got another job same day.”

“Serves that bitch right. It’s about time that bloated whale of a place went belly up.”

“Aw come on, Crystal wasn’t _that_ bad.” Yes she was. Your previous boss did a lot of things right, but like any small business owner she did what she had to do to keep her establishment functioning at peak performance.

Which often led to some less than favorable actions that put you in some...compromisable situations. All that your mother knows about through late night talks over bad television.

“There’s a reason why I called her Crystal Meth. And not the good kind.” Your Mom chides. You pull your lips back as you hold in a laugh.

“Ughhh. Anyways that’s about it. I have a job where I work from home doing some uh, _edits_ for a guy. Dude’s a total whack job but he pays well and he’s...well. He’s actually pretty nice.” You are not going to tell her you were practically blackmailed into working for Pan.

“Well kid good for you, you do your old mom proud by gettin’ your shit together same day. You gonna be able to put money in my account by the fifteenth?” She puts a hand on her hip as the other reaches back to comfort the small of her back. You give an empathetic wince in knowing that her sciatic nerve is most likely giving her trouble today.

“Yeah that shouldn’t be a problem,” You tug your headphones out of the hand on her hip and she rolls her eyes as she turns to leave your room. “Shoo, I still have work to do.” You are a liar and you just want her out of your room. She reeks of cigarette smoke and if you find out she is secretly smoking in her room again you are gonna come at her sideways.

“You’re my favorite butt nugget.” She sings hoarsely as she saunters out.

“Close my door please.” You deadpan. You _hate_ being called butt nugget. You make a mental note to find a way to make a joke of her being a Nicotine Mummy at a later date.

You place your headphones back on and open up a web browser on your computer to watch some of the video game Cover Fire’s tournament play. It is around four in the afternoon and at five your favorite team is lined up to play in the semi finals. _Everyone_ knows that the Gladiators are superior to Dynasty and you can not wait to watch them kick some ass.

Go team!

 

_Allow remote viewer access?_

 

What the hell? A blip chimes in your ears over the sound of the announcers of Cover Fire. A slim box with an _accept_ or _decline_ prompt pops up in the bottom right of your monitor. Great, you probably have some Trojan virus. You hit decline as you lean back in your chair to relax. You take a sip from your energy drink and enjoy the rest of your day through binge watching Cover Fire’s tournament of champions.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Gladiators lost before they made it to the playoffs and that sucks ass. You roll your eyes with an upturned nose as the announcers scream in your ears _Congratulations Dynasty!_ Stupid DPS heavy team, meta is totally bullshit right now anyways.

You flop onto your bed and fiddle through the same apps on your phone that you have been playing with for the last three years. You do not know why, possibly boredom, but you open up the text messages between you and Pan and read them a few times before setting your phone down for the night. You are not used to someone texting you every morning to see how you are doing, but he has been doing it for the past week.

It is nice and always makes you smile, but at the same time you think he might just be keeping tabs on you. You do handle some sensitive information of his now.

You smirk as you nestle your head into the cold side of your pillow. So comfy. Smells like..

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

You do not remember leaving your vibrator on, oh wait, no, that is your cell phone buzzing. You squint as you begrudgingly stir and look at the missed text messages from Pan. You wrinkle your nose when you see that it is seven in the morning on the dot. Damn, what gives?

 

His apartment had better be on fire.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Allow remote viewer access?_ 👀


	12. Across the Universe part seven

**✨  Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ Across the Universe ~

Part seven

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

You keep one ear bud in and one out to listen for your number to be announced. Lucky number seven. The low whispering of people chattering does not blend well with the music you are tapping your foot to. Good thing you got here early.

You pull your sunglasses off your head and down to the bridge of your nose to shield your eyes from the light filtering in from the windows. You stifle a yawn as you slump back lazily into the plastic scoop chair you have taken residence in. Third row, aisle seat, and you are unreasonably irritated that some grandma and her punk rock teenager decided that they needed to sit just one seat over from you.

Grandma smells like skin cream and her granddaughter smells like an alleyway and cheap perfume. If black tar heroin and attitude could have a child it would be this brat smacking her gum and texting at a mile a minute. Ugh. You turn your music up and play with your call number between your thumb and index finger.

Why are you here again? Oh yeah. Because Pan apparently does not like leaving his apartment and swindled you into coming to the post office to collect a package for him. That he could get whatever it is a day early if it was picked up in person rather than delivered via mail.

You are his _accomplice_ after all. That and you are weak and when he asked it was not like you were going to fire back a text that said _‘No go fuck yourself.’_ You do not mind, actually. It is nice to get out of the house and you often ran errands for your old boss. Anything from a bottle of wine to dropping off clients portraits personally because she had pissed them off over the phone and didn’t want to deal with them herself. Sigh.

So really? You do not mind. Pan is a bit out there and kind of a psycho but he is not a jerk. Well, not that you know of. God, you hope not. There is a reason why your mother did not like your old boss and came up with more nicknames than just _‘Crystal Meth’._

So this? This is not so bad. No, what has you fuming is that it is going on eight in the damn morning and you like to sleep until noon. You rub at your eyes and the yawn you have been fighting for awhile now finally breaks free. You stretch your mouth wide to flood your brain with the oxygen it craves.

From up in the left side of the room, ringing from an old call box in the corner, your number is announced. You gather yourself up and quickly debate the pros and cons of shooting premadonna the teenager a dirty look. No, do not be a child.

_Her grandmother would never believe her though._

You compromise by strutting away and flicking your hair over your shoulder. There, that’ll show em’! You do not know what but at least it made you feel better. Go you, you petty champion.

The man behind the counter sounds like he drinks shards of glass for breakfast as he greets you. A smile lined with crooked yellow teeth spreads across his thin lips. His dark skin is riddled with years of welts and acne scarring. His eyes are kind however. He has that look of someone who has quite possibly worked here for at least forty or so years and has loved every minute of it.

“How might I help you this mornin’?” Your eyes catch his polished silver name badge. Ross.

“Good morning Ross,” You let out a sigh as you dig your phone out of your pocket. “Just a sec, I know I need to pick up a package for Pan Darsteller, let me get the invoice number for you.”

“Ohhhh Mr. Darsteller? Might you be his wife then?”

_What._

“Pffffft,” More like his hostage. “No, not even close. I work for him.”

“I see, my apologies! Well, he has never picked up anything in person and I have handled his shipments for quite some time now,” Ross grabs a slender box stamped with blocky black lettering that reads _Fragile_. “His stuff usually ships out on Tuesdays and has for the last few years or so. Just found it peculiar to see someone pickin’ up for the fellow all things considered.”

“Eh no apologies needed, simple mistake really. And yeah, that sounds like him, he holes up in his apartment cause he’s not really fond of going out much I think?” You tap at your phone furiously as you flip through your text messages to find the invoice number. “One sec, it was just here a moment ago…”

“Might you be Holly Leonhardt?”

_What._

You lean away from the counter as you look Ross up and down with a sense of hesitation. “...Yeahhh? I uh, didn’t tell you my name.”

Ross rotates his clunky monitor your way with a grunt before leaning on one elbow and pointing at your name with a pen. “Seems like you’re on his pick up list. The only one, actually. So I won’t be needin’ that invoice number, just some good ol’ government issued ID or a driver’s license will do the trick.”

“That’s….well, that’s kinda creepy and oddly convenient. Does it tell you how long I’ve been registered on his pick up list?”

“Hmmm, looks like it says his profile was updated this..this morning?” Ross taps his pen against the screen as his brows tighten. “Huh. This must be one of those glitches they been talkin’ about. Myself and Yolanda are the only ones here today and neither of us have went through addin’ in any new information to…” Ross stops himself as his eyes dart between you and the monitor. He quickly swivels it back around and replaces his concern with his best customer service smile.

“Don’t mind me, juuuust work talk. Now then, may I see your ID?”

You wonder if the sun is beating down on your back through one of the post offices many windows, or if you are sweating in realizing that Pan somehow remotely added your name into their system. You swallow dryly as you reach your Driver’s license to Ross. “H-Here.”

After a few taps of an old school keyboard and some signatures Ross hands you the shoe box sized package. You give it a few once overs before gingerly taking it into your arms. “Thank you Ross,” You look over your shoulder towards your car as you mutter. “I’m sure this won’t be the last time I see you.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

You want to know what is in the box.

You pull into the only shaded parking spot at Pan’s apartment complex. Your car makes a reluctant clunking sound as you shift gears from Drive to Park. You bite your lip as you set the package in your lap. A shrill squeaking sound grates your ears as you rub a finger against the clear tape keeping the box concealed.

Is there a way you could open it without him knowing? No, he would totally know. This thing is sealed up tighter than a stubborn jar of pickles. Hmm…

You rotate it around curiously before giving it a light shake. It says fragile but… _Holy crap?!_

_What if it’s a bomb?!_

You stop shaking it. The likelihood that this is an explosive is zero to none but so were the odds of working for a functioning psychopath with the capabilities to remotely hack networks for casual convenience. Maybe he is just trying to keep a reminder on you of what he is capable of?

You hope that it is instead him just being...nice. Yeahhh, nice! Let’s go with that.

_Psycho._

You kick your car door shut before hurrying into the apartment complex. As the glass doors part your phone vibrates in your back pocket.

 

_ 1009 Meine Blume.~ 🌹  _

Received at 8:49am

 

 _Got it! Thx, I’ll be right up._ 👍

Seen at 8:49am

 

_ Danke mein lieber! I appreciate your due diligence immensely!  _

_ Received at 8:50am  _

 

  
_Yw : )_

Seen at 8:50am

 

Oh boy. Alarm crawls up your neck like a millipede. His timing is unsettling, how did he know you were here? No, it was just a coincidence. No need to start with the conspiracy theories…

Yet.

You avoid eye contact with the apartment complex’s receptionist as you shuffle towards the elevator. Nothing to see here. It is not like you are carrying a bomb or anything. You tuck Pan’s mystery package underneath your arm _carefully_ as you punch in the pass code to the tenth floor.

The warm scent of vanilla pours in through the ceiling vents in thick wafts and you think someone might be baking on one of the higher floors. It smells better than nice and makes your mouth water.

You want whatever they are making. Reminds you of the cookies your mom used to make when her health was better. The ones with the expensive hunks of gooey chocolate where the cookie to chip ratio was in favor of the chip over the cookie.

Also reminds you that you forgot to eat breakfast. Good job.

You slump against the elevators steel wall as you move Pan’s delivery from one arm to the other. Maybe you can just set this by his door and scamper away back to the elevator. Just play a quick ding-dong-ditch scenario. Yeah, that should be fine. You did your job and still have more to do when you get home..

The elevator shifts its weight down before humming and properly ascending. God, you _hate_ that feeling. It always gets your knees weak and makes you think the floor is going to drop out beneath you.

The vibrating whine of a lone violin breaks the ticking of shuffling by numbers as the elevator rises. Piano keys struck by gentle hammers along their many strings follow suit like rain. Both string instruments twirl around each other in perfect harmony in their duet.

You bring Pan’s box into both hands. You glaze over the glossy shipping label as you try to remember, has the elevator always played music? Classical music at that? It sounds so warm, it reminds you of something you should hear in the lobby of an elegant restaurant over fine red wine and not the shaft of an elevator..

You wonder just how much space Pan has to himself on the tenth floor as you tread towards his lonely door. His entryway, kitchen, and living room alone are extensive in size but due to how dark he keeps his dwelling you can not be sure of the rest.

What all does he keep in there? You know he likes to collect stuff based off of the assortment of glass cases chock-full of eclectic items from all over the world that line his walls. He also has bindings of wires running through everywhere and practically everything, so it could be possible that his other rooms are for tech storage and processing units?

It is probably a mixture of both and some other stuff. Maybe that is what is in the package he had you pick up, something for his collection or computers. Not a..bomb. Don’t be a drama queen.

Holy shit what if it is something wild like a shrunken head? Is he into that black market stuff? Oh no what if he is?! He totally is!

He is nuts! He is a psycho, he is totally into that stuff and _shit he is opening the door you have just been standing here holding his box like an idiot why didn’t you just set it down and run?!_

How does he even know you are here? Ugh this dude probably has security cameras _everywhere._ He probably has security cameras for his security cameras! You quickly scan the perimeter of his well sealed door to see if you can notice anything inconspicuous. No, nothing, the only thing you can pick up on is the mechanical sound of metal slipping against itself as Pan unbolts his many chain locks and latches.

Your awkward prepared smile falters to a poorly masked giggle as Pan throws the door backwards and struts outside of his domain. Okay, yeah, someone is totally feeling themselves today because that tall black top hat with a golden commerbund he is sporting is _ridiculous_.

Somehow Pan makes himself bigger as he grabs hold of his black tux jacket and gives himself a proud shimmy. A silvery tie tucks itself neatly into his white dress shirt. Lengthy coat tails from his formal wear frame his thighs. Pressed slate slacks run down to a set of golden oxford shoes that match the bands on his hat.

_Does he really always dress like this?_

Pan’s eyes smile with electricity before his mouth can match. He leans in, standing on the balls of his feet, ruffling up like a haughty rooster as he greets you. “Guten morgen my young protege!”

Ugh it is to early in the morning for this but... this man’s energy is contagious. What is it about him, seriously?

You take a step back so you can reach the package towards him and he steps forward. Okayyyy. You gulp as you press the box into his chest and smile your best cheesy grin to hide how uncomfortable he is making you, “Uhhh special delivery?”

“Aha exceptional indeed! Danke once again,” Pan lifts the box from your hands as he examines it, mindfully turning it over as he speaks, “I have been exuberantly anxious for the opportunity to properly fashion this prototype together for quite some time now.”

You scratch behind your ear as you look over your shoulder and towards the elevator. _It’s totally a bomb._ “Noo problem, really, don’t mention it! Yeahh glad to help, so I’m just gonna…”

Pan swings his head to the side to gaze upon the now very interesting elevator. His fingers dance over his cardboard parcel as he takes a short step back, his eyes drawing a line between you and the poorly lit entryway to his apartment.

You wince as you hold in a disappointed groan. No, don’t do it. Don’t go in the mad man's lair. “..I’m just gonna head out, I uh, forgot to eat breakfast this morning on the way out so I’m gonna grab a bite and head home.”

Pan’s shoulders slump and his smile falters. Great, your stomach feels emptier for a _different_ reason now. Your lips pull down in a frown as you fix your sights on the ground, drawing a small circle with your sneaker.

_Damn it._

“..Are you hungry? Ya know I could go get us both something and come back. I know there’s a niceish place--”

“Nein, nein,” Pan waves his hand in front of him as he drapes an arm over his delivery. His cheeks brighten as he kicks a leg back to the wall, golden shoe crinkling as he leans his weight back. He clears his throat.

“Truly I believe I should be the one to propose such a nicety, it twas’ I that requested that you take care of this recreational errand for me,” Pan pats his box with a sigh before his blue eyes lock on you with a matching grin that stretches from ear to ear. “Do you have anything particular in mind?~”

You’re so fucked.

You rub the back of your neck as a coy giggle slips past your lips, “Well...umm..whaddya got?”

“Mmm,” Pan chuckles as he reaches into his breast pocket for his phone, “The perfect ingredients dear one. Technology and currency.~”

“I uh, don’t think places in town deliver before 10am?”

“Pfffft darling _please_. You should be more than aware of the fact that by now I am capable of pulling many strings! If you believe that take out before noon is a wonder then I still have a plethora of sensational phenomenons to indoctrinate unto you.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever could be in Pan(dora)'s box?! 🤣 Is it a bomb?! Is it a shrunken head?! Could it be...something normal?! 
> 
> I wonder who is baking. 🤔 Why was the elevator playing classical music? 


	13. The devil is in the details NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place somewhere after chapter 44 of Child of Jörmungandr. Up to you if it is canon in my fic or not. 😜 
> 
> Rated D for Demiurge! Smutty one shot. 💋
> 
> Across the Universe (part eight) resumes on chapter 15. 🌌

**✨  Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ The devil is in the details ~

One shot

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The indolent crackling of emerald flames from an obsidian hearth bathes your bedroom in a relaxing whimsy. Green fire cavorts against dozens of individual baubles, trinkets, and personal treasurers. All of which are neatly stacked upon dark cedar bookshelves that line the circumference of your domain in Nazarick.

Data crystals in bunches, fused to glass tubes, sit like bouquets on the topmost shelves. Skulls of exotic monsters from trophy hunts in Yggdrasil, miniaturized for cosmetic decorative purposes, rest between piles of well placed coin. Map scrolls in fluted leather cases lay against hardback lore novels of varying sizes.

Pewter sculptures of Titania and Oberon dance in a forever pause aloft a hoard of Jormungandr’s golden scales. All ornamental drops from raids that feel like yesterday. Ivory orbs of regeneration fixed in set wooden claws refract the jade kindling breathing warmth from your mantel.

From your bedside rests a slabbed slate top marbled nightstand. An oil burner with two lit sticks of incense strewn across its glass reciprocal lets loose the pleasant scents of Nag champa and Rose extract. Creamy billows of smoke twirl from the tips of the incense in a lazy rise. Fumes of watercolor mist pool over the table and cascade down to the floor.

Clouds of smoke drift in thick waves across the limestone floor. Gathering into a denser fog the roaming sheets of smoke climbs towards the center of the room. The perfume infused effluvium shifts black upon reaching your oval shag rug.

The dark haze spreads as it makes way to form its devilish proprietor.

Never before has the resident demon of Nazarick entered your room without knocking. It seems that today is the exception. From the shadows of swirling smoke the seventh floor guardian rises, the hearth framing his confident posture as green fire licks across his sharp edges.

Demiurge raises a hand to his chest before bowing with an arm swung behind his back. You lift a brow as you rest your paperback across your bosom. “Demiurge,”  you ask with an airy laugh, “Didn’t I just see you an hour or two ago?”

Demiurge’s brows pinch together in puzzle for a flicker of a second. “Lady Holly,” He bends deeper in his bow as his tail swishes behind him, “I do not mean to intrude upon your time of leisure. However it is to my understanding that you successfully indoctrinated Carne Village into Nazarick and I sought to congratulate you on your triumph personally. Yet should my presence displease you I shall--”

“No, you’re fine. Really, this book was boring me anyways. I think I’ve reread the same paragraph five times now and I just can’t get into it.” Demiurge hums in understanding as he ascends from his bent chest. You arch your back in a stretch before wiggling back into the comfortable spot you have nested yourself in upon your sheets.

“Thanks though, really. I uh..Heyyy, how did you know about that? I just got back to Nazarick and nothing was said about Carne at that debriefing with Momonga.” You narrow your eyes as Demiurge smirks.

“I make it my business to know, my lady.”

You roll your tongue over your teeth with your own smirk as you look him up and down. “Is that your _only_ business here then? Surely you didn’t just come to see me to say good job.”

Demiurge’s canines glisten as his lips curl back and up. He strides forward with his hands folded atop his tail, the leather of his shoes braying softly as he steps from the rug to the bare floor. “My apologies my supreme one,” The demon purrs, “I am foolishly unaware of any implications you may be asserting over myself.”

“Oh _really_.”

Emerald fire skips across his crystalline eyes as a claw tip brings his glasses down the bridge of his nose, “I would not dare to dream to assume anything that may permeate your elegant mind,” His passive black flames crawl over his hand as he ghosts his palm over the edge of your bed. “Should you be so generous as to bequeath me with an understanding of your ruminations I would be..most appreciative.”

“I could show you.” You dance your fingers over his flannel slacks as he sinks a knee into your bed.

You watch his every move as you hand him your paperback. His smug expression curves to hide the vulgar one lurking beneath as he sets the booklet on top of your nightstand. His glasses follow, folded and placed with care beside the still simmering oil burner.

A spectrum of turquoise bathes your dark comforter in a sea of sequin lights with every blink the demon takes. You know he is not fond of removing his bifocals, but you are always his exception.

You like his eyes. He likes that you like his eyes.

Demiurge smells like a twist of Nag Champa from his earlier rise and his true blend of arcane smoke and ash as he leans forward. Your bitten lip and thick wave of lashes give him all the permission he needs to set himself between your thighs, yet he waits until you flip open the single button that keeps his suit jacket fastened.

The demons crimson blazer rolls off of his shoulders and hits the floor. The little black dress you wear in recreation bunches up nicely in the demon’s claws as it travels up your stomach, and the only thing hotter than his breath over your skin as he kisses his way up is the fire roiling underneath it.

Your dress joins his jacket. The rest of his clothing follows suit.

The demon roams your body with familiarity as if you were one of his artistic endeavors. He knows your anatomy, knows _you_. He knows exactly how to pepper worshipful kisses along your collarbone, knows you like his thumbs strumming the peaks of your breasts, that you enjoy his cold steel tail corkscrewing yours.

Your tongue glides along the seam of your lips as you swallow back a throaty moan. He is a surgeon with his precision, meticulous in every touch so that each spark he ignites along your flesh with a brush of his body against yours is meant to maximize your pleasure.

Demiurge flicks his tongue over your lips, trailing their outline before melding his mouth to yours.

It is sensual, and far from the man, the _demon_ back at the farmstead. Far from the devil that prefers to stamp you with pinks and purples in his pride of pleasuring his goddess, of having you wear his marks of fevered lust like swollen badges of honor.

That wherever you go you take a piece of him with you.

The demons sun kissed skin flushes along his back as you pull at him with your fingers. His chest rumbles as you thread one hand through his neatly combed tresses, fingering at the many sleek strands of his ebony hair. Relief floods your senses as he slips over your soft and blushing folds, the tip of his member wedging and nestling into your tear drop shaped entrance.

The swell of his flared cockhead dips inside, spreading you wide, and you relish the look on his face as he pulls back from the kiss. That his normally unflappable expression is replaced with his mouth hung open in the sheer disbelief of how luxuriously warm and slick you feel.

Inch by delicious inch he rocks closer to your hips, opening the space within you and igniting the feeling of being stretched deep within your core. You shudder as his groin kisses yours.

Demiurge takes one of your legs into the curve of his arm as he sits up, languidly grinding himself against the smooth muscle of your cervix. A breathy sigh in the ecstasy of feeling full and clenching around his length escapes your lips.

You drape your leg over his shoulder and playfully wiggle your toe across his many silvery ear piercings. They jingle and softly clank as he licks and tenderly presses kisses to your ankle. A rare and treasured hint of a smile pulls at his cheeks and makes your heart flutter.

Your other leg finds its way up and over his shoulder. You lick your lips and his chest resounds like purring thunder at the sight of understanding that this fever between the two of you boils like a caged star. The demon inclines over you and a shrill _Ah!_ fills his ears from the beauty of your mouth and makes them twitch in delight. You gasp at the shock of how wide and vulnerable he makes you, how your ankles just a moment ago were resting a hair above his back but are now dangling behind your head.

The streams of ambrosial oil burning from your nightstand make the demons sweat taste lingeringly sweet as you suck and nip at his adam’s apple. Beads of perspiration catch in the grooves of his chiselled abdominals and drip against your stomach as his thrusts grow demanding. It’s so damn good and has your fists balled up and dragging against the bed with no particular rhythm other than the one rocking your core.

You draw the taut skin around the hollow of his throat into your mouth and mark the demon. The vibration caught in the form of a stifled groan and what you think might even be a chuckle makes you bite and suck all the harder. He is not the only one that likes to brand their claim, which is why his rigid chest should still be stamped with healing welts of purples and dark yellows.

All from earlier ruts in Ashurbanipal and that wild zeal of his unleashed in blood by the Catacombs. It all feels like such a daze, yet the heat pooling in your belly and the zing of pleasure sliding down your spine lets you know exactly where you are. You drag your finger tips from his hair, along the crisp edges of his handsomely sharp face, around the new claim you have bitten into him, and down to his chest where…

Hmm. Someone heals faster than you remember. You inhale sharply because oh, _so that’s how we’re doing things now?_ Goosebumps paint your skin, and you would smirk if not for his lips haughty and rough over yours without warning.

Cheeky.

Demiurge sets a new pace as he twirls his devilish tongue around yours, delving himself in and out of you in a rush that has you dizzy with the intoxicating strikes of his hips until he really loses it. You slam a fist into his shoulder blade to let him know to put his back into it, to forsake the sensuality act and fuck his claim into you with all he’s got.

He grins like a madman against the kiss and growls. You will let him be the man he wants to be, let him be that sadist that haunts behind the visage of a gentlemen. That the pleasure mixed with the pain of his hips bruising against yours is confusingly lovely and your breathing binds ragged in your throat. He should know by now you are not a china doll and rather enjoy some good hard fun.

He did come here to congratulate you after all.

The demons tail constricts yours. The sheets cling to the fine sheen of sweat glistening all over your body. Jade flames leap in the corner of your eyes and the only thing louder than the crackling fires of your mantel are the punishing thrusts of the seventh floor guardians powerful thighs slapping against yours.

You shut your eyes tight, tears flooding in their ducts as the demons tongue plunges in and out of your mouth at the same unforgiving pace as his cock. Fuck, his stamina is incredible. He makes it hard to breathe when he consumes your world in smoke and desire, but the self indulgent thrill that you get out of him crumbling like sand when he cums makes it all worth the while.

Especially when you come unmade around his length, arching against his chest like a thread pulled tight, sucking frantically on his tongue as he spends himself through your all consuming climax. Your world would cut to an emerald afterglow from your fireplace, but there is no time, no time when you are caught in the devil’s unyielding embrace.

Demiurge pulls away from your mouth and a strand of saliva connects his bottom lip to yours. He flicks it with his tongue and you would swear the erotic sight of that alone could bring you to a second finish.

His breath grows ragged and shallow as he tucks his head into the pocket of your shoulder and spends himself into you like his life depends on it. He mumbles around a deep groan at the warmth that slicks over him, shuddering, skin catching on the cloying wetness that leaks down the insides of your thighs.

You find yourself coughing on a husky rasp as he yanks your hips to his own, claws digging deep into your curves, and driving himself desperately to completion. Glorious catharsis floods his center with an inferno as his cock is freed of its burden, leaving him to throb and pant as he spills, canvassing your plush walls with his white hot release.

You sigh airily as the tell tale twitch of his orgasm rushing into you subsides. Your lashes flutter against your cheeks as you relax, and although he does not pull out, you make a sound in appreciation as he moves so that your legs can fall limply on either side of him.

The demons hands find yours at the same time that you went to look for his. As soon as his fingers interlace with yours you grip him tightly, snatching him up, and he is caught like an unaware butterfly in the net of tired giggles woven by your comprehension of his act.

He tilts his head in question, his brows furrowed, and before he can utter a single honorific you poke your tongue out between your lips and dance your eyebrows.

“You were good, almost _perfect_.” Oh the look on his face is priceless. You grunt as you sit up, the bed sheets clinging to your back like fly paper, and _holy shit_ you are sore. You blink a few times to offset your glazed sights as Demiurge pulls himself out. A deluge of his threads of silk and yours leaks hot and creamy out of the swell of your entrance.

You draw a half circle on his chest with a lone finger, connecting one peck to the other. You press your lips together in a taunt of curiosity with an added _tsk tsk tsk_ for good measure. You let him sit in torturous confusion for juust a moment longer before your face is overcome with a twisted smile that sends his brows into another satisfying pinch.

_Teehee._

“Ya know,” You start, and as soon as your eyes flicker up to his he _knows you know_ , and he grins from ear to ear in such a way that you think he is made of nothing but pearly white teeth. “Demiurge always knocks.”

The demon sits back as he purrs around an exhausted chuckle. “Ahh…War ich so offensichtlich, Schätzchen?”

 

* * *

 

 

 

🎇💙 Thank you for your Kudos, Bookmarks, and Comments! 💙🎇 

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheeky. 😜 
> 
> Child of Jörmungandr turns six months old tomorrow! (06/06/2019) So here, have a smutty one shot that has been in my head for months that I couldn't fit into CoJ. 
> 
> Expect one shots in between updates for Across the universe. 💋


	14. If Enceladus orbited Venus NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place somewhere after chapter 44 of Child of Jörmungandr. Up to you if it is canon in my fic or not. 😜 
> 
> Rated C for Cocytus! Smutty one shot. ❄️ 
> 
> ⚠️ Spoiler/Tags - Egg laying (Kind of) , Huge Cock, Heat, Stretching, Knot (Kind of but not really). Tagged in case this isn't your kind of thing and you'd rather skip. 😊
> 
> Across the Universe (part eight) resumes on chapter 15. 🌌

 

**✨  Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ If Enceladus orbited Venus ~

One shot

 

 

 

 

 

Platinum spider webs cling to the corners of Momonga’s office. The warm flicker of a chandelier reveals many sets of jade eyes from the eight edged assassins who peer around the shadows of dark curtains.

“Give it here,” Momonga’s elbows thud against his desk as he upturns a bony palm, fingers curling his way. “I know you still have it.”

You cross your arms with a huff as you glance away. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Do not try to lie to me. You are terrible at it.”

You dig your hand into your pants pocket with a scowl. “Yeah well not as bad as you,” You palm the ruby map marker before launching it towards him off of your thumb with a flick of your middle finger. “Fiiiiine.”

Momonga snatches the crimson jewel mid air with ease. He tosses it up and down methodically before placing it to the right of a thick stack of papers. “Ah, this reminds me,” Momonga says as he fans the pages. “I would ask for you to do me a favor.”

“Oh yeah?” You chide as you lean forward, eyes blinking between the gem and Momonga as a mischievous smile spreads across your face. “What kinda favor?”

Momonga’s robes pool over his arm rests as he sinks himself back into his seat with a grunt. His scarlet orbed eyes dim as he scrapes his fingers against his chin. “I am concerned for Cocytus.” 

Your smile falters as you plant your forearms against the desk. Momonga reassures you with a soft dismissal of his hand before continuing. “I do not believe it is anything to be entirely too disturbed about. I simply found it...peculiar when he requested that he take immediate leave from his post with the Lizard men.”

“Where is he? Is he on his floor?” You snap your head back to glimpse over your shoulder and towards the exit of Momonga’s office. “Here’s the deal; I’ll go check on him asap, don’t worry about it.”

“I would greatly appreciate that, yes. Thank you,” Momonga relaxes as he interlocks his fingers, hands placed comfortably in his lap. “That is what I was actually hoping to request of you.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll let you know how he is as soon as I know.” You spin on a heel as you make your way out of Momonga’s office, hand in the air with a departing wave. Within three steps you are already preparing for your frigid landfall upon the fifth floor. You paint a picture of Snowball earth in your mind as your body buzzes with the intent of casting [Greater Teleportation].

The air beside you whistles as something zipping at high speed clips by your ear. You swipe your hand to catch it like you would a gnat, chuckling as the smooth ruby map marker warms your palm.

You glance over your shoulder and wink.

Momonga’s laugh thunders around an exhausted sigh as he returns to his pen and paper.

 

 

[Greater Teleportation] 

 

 

Your feet sink into a patch of crunchy snow.

A howling glacial wind so cold it stings hot bites at your skin. Before you can wipe at your nose it is already running and beat red from the coming [Hoarfrost] debuff. It _burns._ Just like while on the seventh floor and casting [Atonement of Flame] to shelter yourself from the scalding atmosphere you will need aid while on Nazarick’s fifth floor. 

Damn your low resistance. 

Your teeth chatter as you summon a vial of Blessing of Aurgelmir. Through cracked lips that are already chafed blue you sip in the potion.

A hot fog bursts from your mouth in a gasp. Your next intake of air breathes life into your lungs that were beginning to crumple. The swollen purples of your finger tips recede to return their fleshy warm tone. As your blood simmers to reheat your body you wonder how it is that _anyone_ ever got past the fifth floor.

Especially if they had a build like yours.

A flurry of snowflakes drifts across the horizon. Pillows of snow collect between your horns. Footsteps trail behind you that soon become two long trenches as you shovel forward, tail sweeping the pathway you have formed. 

Playful spirals of snow kick up in a breeze as you approach your destination. 

Snowball Earth.

Burrowed up through the snow like an Egyptian ant hill the pyramid of Cocytus’s domain rests between six gargantuan floating icicles. Set on a counterclockwise rotation in a languid ballet the glacial stalactites glisten as they sweat.

 Liquid crystal spills around the rims of hexagonal combs that dot the inverted vespiary. Dripping like teal honey the river of trickling quartz cascades into separate notches, pooling into a reservoir, before overflowing into the next. 

Twin frost virgins with periwinkle skin and braided hair flank a towering door slotted with channels of chalcedony. Within each of their hands rest silver halberds that crash together for you to walk under as you enter.

“Welcome to the fifth floor My Supreme one.” The frost virgin on the left whispers.

“You do us a great honor with your presence,” The right parrots her sister’s tone as she bows her head before continuing. “My lady I must apologize on Cocytus’s behalf for he is indisposed at the moment.”

“Thanks for the heads up, and yeah,” You crane your neck up high as you gaze over the door, okay, do you push or pull this thing? “I’m here to check on him.” Gah, you haaate opening doors. You wince as you go to nudge at the handle and both frost virgins fit the tips of their halberds into slots at the top of the entryway and heave.

Shadows and chilling fog climb forward as the doors part.

“Thanks!” You smile with a wave before darting inside.

“My Lady,” The right whispers. 

“Please be careful.” The left whispers back.

You do not hear them.

The doors slide shut without a sound.

A miniature replica of the floating crystals outside hangs like a mobile in the center of the dark room. Their low emanating glow reflects off of the furniture sculpted from ice that lays placed around the wide circular domicile. 

A weapon rack bursting with swords, axes, and halberds that have all been overcome with icicles leans against the wall. Winks of moisture glisten over a sectional chaise lounge adorned with a throw blanket frozen stiff.

Ivory vases sit collected on a shelf above a mantle that breathes blue mist. Fit on the domed curve of the ceiling lay wall lanterns in an ascending slant. They are unlit but their centers swim with an oozing turquoise gel. Somewhere water drips and breaks the eerie silence as you tiptoe forward. 

Your spine tickles with an uncomfortable paranoia as you tuck your shoulders forward. Call it intuition but something feels _off._

The glint of the crystals recede into their cores. The room grows colder; Darker. Before you can say the fifth floor guardians name there is a displacement in the air around you. You gulp his name down along with the cold stone in your throat as you take a step backwards.

Crystal dust twists in a whirlwind as the floor trembles under the heavy footfalls of something with titanic mass.The grating sound of a tea kettle releasing steam on a _deep_ pitched whine fills your ears.

Like a feather standing before the force of an inexorable tide your body is slammed against the closest wall. Sheets of ice crash from the ceiling and the nearest weapon rack spills its contents across the floor in a symphony of clanks. Your chest heaves around a raspy cough from the impact as your assailant keeps separate claws bound around your arms, your waist, and the last firm against the wall.

You are pinned like a butterfly.

The grip tightens considerably as his pincers sink into the wall and send long cracks up and to the roof. Six spherical eyes swirl at their center with a cloud of gray as he rumbles. “My. Lady. You. Must. Leave. _Now_ ,” His mouthparts furiously tick with the clicks of his hoarse and brassy voice. “I. Am. Not. Myself.”

“....Cocytus,” Your hair spills over your shoulders as you bend forward to survey his taut grasp on your stomach. Just like the hand beside your head his claw tips on either side of you are digging into the wall. You take a second to collect yourself before your face twists with a nervous smile. “Ya know I would go but uh...you've kinda got me stuck.”

Cocytus’s mandibles fit snug against your temples as they tremble. An eruption of his passive falls down your chest in a glittering haze as he leans impossibly closer, his mouthparts tickling over your cheeks. “I. Am. Sorry,” Water leaks down from over his shoulders as the twin sentinels of ice on his back perspire. “Y-You. Must. Withdraw. This. Is. Not. A. Battle. I. Can. Win. Against. M-Myself.”

“H-Hey now, it’s uh, gonna be alright,” You clear your throat as your concern wears itself knit tightly between your brows. You wiggle to see if he will allow you some space to move and he shudders with a heady groan. “I’ll help whatever way I can. Just..maybe let me go?”

Cocytus pushes the smooth crown of his forehead against yours. His mandibles fall to rest along your collarbone as he shakes his head. “I-I. Am. Trying.”

His thick digits tent with a twitch before closing back in on you like a vice. You gasp as he squeezes your curves with yet another hot groan. Fucking hell, what is going on? Your eyes dart across the room for an answer as you try to peek around the indigo titan that is Cocytu--

Wait, indigo?

Fissures of powder blue rest beneath the hard exterior of Cocytus’s overcast exoskeleton. Striations in an ombre of violet to cobalt have replaced the softer hues of his inner mouthparts. Your sights lower to his center and his polished marbled thorax matches the dull storm across his eyes.

Cocytus nudges your forehead in an upwards press. “P-Please,” He whimpers and again his body trembles. “Do. Not. Look. Lower.”

“Kayy...um..,” _Don’t look at his crotch. Don’t look at his crotch._ “Why are you so uh...dark? Is it a bug thing?” That sounds racist you idiot. Wait, bug thing…Oh! Ohhhh shit. Realization dawns on your face as you tilt your head to the side. “Are you sheddi--err, molting?”

Another deep pitched whine echoes from Cocytus’s throat followed by a mist of his passive. Thank god for that Potion of Aurgelmir or you would be a Holly Popsicle right now. “Yes. My. Lady,” Cocytus grunts as he  widens his stance and his tail strikes the ground behind him. “I. Don’t. Want. You. To. See. Me. Like.”

Cocytus shivers through the vibrations of his mouthparts as his knee slicks against the underside of your tail. They tickle as they brush against the delicate curve of your jaw and down the scales on your neck. 

Well, you can’t exactly move your hands to bat them away. So you whistle a small puff of warm air over them to discourage the behavior. Instead they seize from the contact and rush to hover over your lips. “Ohh, uh…,” You would pull away but he is _everywhere_ and your back is quite literally up against the wall. “See you like this? I...I think the dark blue is a really nice look on you to be fair.”

Clicks, whirrs, and a few other bug sounds wrestle through Cocytus as his knee grinds into the plush underbelly of your tail once more. His grip on you relaxes. “Lady. Holly. _Please._ Any. More. An-And--!”

Your pupils go blown as you steal a glance down.

Cocytus whimpers.

Oh.

“Houmhidownthere.” That is uh..not his knee.

“I. Am. Deeply. Sorry,” Shame coats his husky tone. “My. Genus. Enters. A. Heat. When. Molting. And. I. Tried. To. Hide. Myself. To. Contain. My. Urge. To…”

You bite your lip as you stare down at his weeping tip. Beads of teal, similar to the crystal liquid spilling around Snowball earth, drip from the swivel of his slit. “That’s uh...lot. Yep. Um,” You chuckle nervously. “So when you say heat you mean like...?”

“It. Is. Horrible.”

“Ya know,” You flush all the way to your ears. You lift your tail to glide it over the grooved ridges of his cock and Cocytus jerks into the touch. “I..I could help with that.”

“...I. Do. Not. Control. The. Strength. To. Deny. You. At. This. Time.”

“Would you if you could?”

“...No,” Cocytus voice falters into a groan as your tail gives the base of his bulbous length a squeeze. “N-No. I. Wou-Would. Not.”

You rub your thighs together as a familiar warmth spreads around them. This...this is going to be interesting. “Now,” You work your tail up his length in a nursing pulse as you purr, “Let me go, and like I said, I can help.”

Instead of releasing you, Cocytus sits back on his haunches and brings you up onto his chest. An odd halo of a temperature that displaces the air throbs from the knot at his groin as you rest your rear against it. Drawn out from the thought of relieving the deep ache in his core Cocytus’s bottom most claws find home on your legs and rock you back and forth. 

“..Thank. You.” It is in the way that his soft tone flutters into your ears with a sense of bashfulness that has your heart swell in fondness.

Another set of claws guide your waist. His mandibles crash together with a slurry of frost when your clothes disappear and humble breasts, already stiff, bounce free. You lure his length between your legs with a press of your tail. 

Slick and already accepting from the exotic rush of feeling Cocytus this way, you ease back. His tip slips along your lips and his entire body shudders. Undoubtedly there has been an unspoken attraction since the Monument of ruin between the two of you. Something more than a few cute comments and the endearing way he is there for you as a guardian; As a friend.

Taking things a step further does not feel weird. And even if it did?

...You kinda like weird.

“You. Are. _W_ \- _Warm_.” He chokes out as his mouthparts tick and vibrate. Thick and still drooling with an alien precum he works the edge of his flared cockhead into you. Once properly lined up his hips begin to gently roll, and you hum in approval as you sway back. 

You tuck your chin down and inhale.

It is a _lot_. The fires of desire are pooled cool and spread through you as you languidly bring him in. With his tip nestled in tight and your own arousal running down the firm inner core of his cock you take a moment to relax, to focus. 

Cocytus stirs with another needy dip into you. Your breathing hitches and your hands tremble across the polished globe of his thorax. You are spread wider than you have ever been before, and the rush of cool air kissing your strewn out sex makes everything all the more intense.

“Are. You. Alright?”

You nod your head as you push back and Cocytus sounds off with a barrage of what you think are pleasurable bug sounds. You giggle through the pressure of accepting more of his girth. A throaty moan slips through the seam of your lips as you swivel your hips.

 “Are you?”

His whine and desperate flex of all four of his claws let you know that is he is _better_ than alright.

You lift to glance over your shoulder and take notice that you are not going to be able to fit all of him inside of you. However, your core flutters in delight as you watch the knot at the base of his cock pulse and begin to make its way up his length. Ohhh that is going to feel so fucking good to stretch around…

Globs of strange liquid fill you up faster than Cocytus. At the same time that it numbs your pulsing walls it heightens the pleasure as he fits more of himself in than you thought he could. Your stomach tightens as you pick up the pace to see if you can fit more.

You can’t. 

You rest no more than halfway down his cock before a thought stirs in your brain. You plant your feet between his thigh plates, toes curling, lower back twitching as your tail corkscrews his length. His brash moaning and clicks zing straight to your stomach and make your body absurdly hot despite the frost permeating the air.

You wrap your tail around the bulge and his hips raise desperately into the air. It sets your teeth on edge as his cocktip punches the slippery curve of your cervix. Below as you work the knot higher and higher, consumed with his task, Cocytus adjusts his angle and continues to thrust. He widens you to make ready for his claim, the head of his length deeper than you thought as it begins to bloom.

Oozing teal honey leaks out of the swell of your entrance and coats your thighs. You groan and tent your fingers as the swollen and anxious pearl tunneling up Cocytus’s length kisses against your lips. 

Cocytus’s breathing turns labored, hard, and all of his claws grip you once again like a vice as he hisses. His cock flexes and  the wide head expands to make _more_ room for him. With a crash of his mandibles and a few desperate presses his knot pops into you. His length contracts as your lips are crushed, splayed obscenely wide, and tears fall from your eyes as you mutter more than a few confused expletives. 

It hurts, _nghhh_ , but your body is perplexed by the pleasure of it all. Your engorged sex throbs in protest, but your smirk says anything but. With his hands using you to work him over, guiding you up and down and oh so slippery, Cocytus tosses his head back. Your mouth widens in a not so silent scream as his cock shudders and deposits his strange seed deep inside of you.

Cool to the furnace of your pulsating pussy the swelled ovule swims in a protective layer of his thick juices and your own silk. You clench around the freed bulge and it trembles. Cocytus relaxes considerably as his tail scrapes against the floor in blissful afterglow.

You lift your hips and fall forwards as the floor guardian eases himself out of your nurturing hold. You pant as your eyes gloss over. One of your hands gingerly rub just below your pelvic bone, fingers grazing over a petite bulge in your abdomen. You glance down and your stomach is lit with a bio luminescent blue that reflects off of Cocytus’s carapace.

“You. Would. Make. A. Splendid. Hive. Queen.” Cocytus slurs. Mm, that is cute. He almost sounds drunk.

You shake your head as a tired laugh bubbles up from your throat. “Do you feel better?”

“ _Yess_ ,” Cocytus sighs as he gently fingers a claw tip into your hair spilling around his chest. “D-Did. You…” Cocytus hesitates.

“I think my question should answer that,” You clear your throat as you look up towards his face. You wiggle your eyebrows. “How often do you molt?”

“Every. Five. Years.”

“Oh? Oh wow that’s not very often. Wellll,” you flirt with your tail, nudging the crystals on his as it lulls on the ground in a lazy stupor. “I’ll mark my calendar.”

“I. Would. Like. That.” Cocytus purrs.

“I’m sure you would.” You laugh, and just before you get any more comfortable your pupils flare. You stomach fills with a dread that begins to slowly slough out the knot keeping you full. Oh. Oh _shit._ You uh...you need to tell Momonga how Cocytus is doing…

…Or maybe you don’t. 

Maybe later.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been wanting to give our best bug some love for quite some time now! Just needed the inspiration and setting to hit, and here we are! I hope you all enjoyed. <3 
> 
> "If Enceladus orbited Venus" - Whenever I write Enceladus it wants me to auto correct the word to "Enchiladas". And I can't stop laughing about that. _If Enchiladas orbited Venus._ Thank you Auto correct for ruining my clever one shot title. 😂


	15. Across the Universe part eight

 

**✨  Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ Across the Universe ~

Part eight

* * *

 

 

 

Pan flies around his front room as he gathers an assortment of gadgets. Tweezers, knife and file, tube glue, and he chuckles when he retrieves a swiss army knife and tosses a wink your way.

Eagerly his hands work faster than they should through a cubby stuffed full of colorful vials. Several of the drawers rattle as Pan fingers at different screws, only plucking the smallest ones he can locate for himself. 

He gestures with a swing of his hand for you to take a seat. “Ahh, I will join you momentarily, Holly! I am simply collecting what I require for the days festivity.~”

You sink into his suede sectional and tuck yourself into the corner. “Uhhh, kay.” 

You are unsure of what you should be looking at. Pan frolicking about his front room with an armful of odd equipment, or _what’s in the box._ You press your lips out in a pucker of curiosity as you stare at the package as if you could melt it with laser vision. _There it is._ Sitting on top of his desk between his monitors and mockingly menacing as its tape glints from his screens glow. What the hell is in it?! 

Tweezers, a Knife, Glue, screws..?!

Are those little jars chemicals?!

It’s a bomb. It’s a bomb! He is going to put a bomb together in front of you.

Pan zips into his chair and with a kick of his heel he is taken from one side of his lengthy desk to the other. He skids to a halt with a firm press of his shoe just before the lip of his couch. The contents hooked in his arm spill over his sleeve and bounce across his keyboard.

He doesn’t seem to mind.

His elbows find his knees as he leans in, hands cradling his face, eyebrows dancing as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. “You seem to have quite the ambition to procure the knowledge of what I asked you to fetch for me,” Pan blinks between you and the box. Your wide eyes follow him as he retrieves it and sets it in his lap with an airy chuckle. “I see I am correct in that notion!  Would you care to free my prize of its prison?” 

“Nono,” Your hands jolt up to your chest as you wave them around. “All yours! Really you bought it, I-I don’t wanna spoil your fun?”

Pan slaps his hands against the packages sides before scratching his nails across the cardboard. “Oh come now,” A grin that splits his face from ear to ear consumes him before he launches the box your way. He _giggles_ as you fumble with catching it. “You spoil my fun if you do not take a wee gander of what now lays in your possession.”

Pan’s swiss army knife bounces next to you as he again, smirks. Oh boy. You fit your thumb into the thin indent of one of the many different blades and give a tug. Pan pulls his lips in and bites back a chuckle as your reveal a bottle opener and not a knife.

“Offiiziersmesser’s are quite tricky little multi tools are they not?”

“Hey now I meant to pull this one out.” 

You furrow your brows as you struggle with cutting the tape with the bottle opener. Damn it all you are not going to let this man win one over you like this. 

Not today!

You grunt as Pan pantomimes with his hands in a tease. Jerk. The tape crinkles until you finally slice open the box with a snag of the tooth on the bottle opener against the lip of the package. Bubble wrap, crumpled brown paper, and ribbons of shredded tape find their way to Pan’s floor.

You carefully retrieve a thin sky blue box wrapped in a layer of protective plastic. Black text that reads “Focke-wulf fw 191 - Expert Craftsman technique required” consumes the top of an invoice glued to the kit.

You blink a few times, unaware that your lips are parted in bewilderment. “It’s...it’s a model?”

_It’s not a bomb?!_

A spark nips at your heart as his eyes sparkle. “Indeed! It is rather cool as they say is it not?!” You slowly nod your head as he prances his feet on the ground, kicking the contents of the box out of his way. “What conclusion had you come to before unveiling the revelry of my parcel?”

“You don’t want to know what I thought it was.” Your cheeks brighten. He might have a theme for being theatrical, but you? You are a total drama queen.

“I do remember informing you that I was facetiously insidious within the dark web and not externally.~”

“I uh, beg to differ?”

“Mmm,” Pan chuckles. “You are quite the perceptive one?”

You shrug a shoulder as you reach him back his model kit. “I try to be at least.”

You toss him his swiss army knife.

He tosses it back. “Would you care to be my assistant?”

“I thought I already was?”

Pan glances towards the ground. He clears his throat as he pulls at the collar of his shirt before looking back to you with a sliver of a smile and hooded eyes. “Perceptive.”

 

* * *

 

 

Shavings of grey plastic lay strewn across the fold out table before you. You pop out different sprues with a set of diagonally cut pliers and set them to the left of a dribbling carton of tube glue. Pan, with a magnifying glass in one hand and a pair of absurdly small tweezers in the other, fits together different pieces of his model that is currently held up by a thin stand.

Every once in awhile he switches the tweezers with a white toothpick. He swabs up a droplet of adhesive to the tip before applying it to the model. You reach for the file and he nudges it your way. His finger brushes yours and your heart skips. Wait, what?

Oh.

… _Fuck._

You dart your sights towards his kitchen as you grind down your sprues nub. Nope. You are definitely not blushing. More than a few cartons of take out, some still with more than enough food in them, decorate his countertops. The scent of garlic and herbs still permeates the air, probably from the Eggplant parm that Pan swears by.

You whip your head back to Pan as the sound of his happy voice startles you. “Truly it is such a nicety to have someone to aid in this endeavor! Normally this proceeding would take an uncanny amount of hours to complete.”

He glances at you through the magnifying glass and the size of his widened blue eye is endearing as all hell and kinda funny. You plop the sprue he’s gesturing for into his hand with an airy laugh. “How long do these normally take to put together?”

“Approximately seven and a half hours, give or take.” Pan states. You turn your head to the side, hair spilling onto the table as you gaze at the undercarriage of the model airplane. You think it is totally rad, especially wher--

“Oohhhh careful, Geliebte!” Pan sweeps your hair off of the table, pushing aside the opened container of tube glue. His magnifying glass drops to the table in a loud clang.

You quickly gather your hair over your shoulder and check to see if any of the glue got into your curls. You breathe a sigh of relief as you work your fingers through your hair and find no clumps of adhesive. “Holy shit that would have sucked,” You twist the ends of your hair around your fingers to emphasize your point. “Thank you, I uh-”

Pan chuckles warmly as he interrupts you. “That would have been a rather _sticky_ situation.”

Your eyes slant as you lean forward, entangling your fingers out of your hair to point an incriminating finger at him. “That...that was a bad pun and you know it.”

“Surely you are aware that the best ones often are,” Instead of retrieving his magnifying glass Pan redirects his attention to pinching a slender bow shaped model bit between his fingers. He squeezes it a few times before pondering, “Did you know that it was this erroneous segment here that was the downfall of this specific aircraft?”

“How so?”

Pan rolls the part over his fingers as he hums. Although the sprue is plastic and unyielding in its pliability? Pan makes it look like taffy as he fiddles with it thoughtfully. “How you indulge me so, Holly! Ah, Well, if you carouse your very eyes unto this location here,” Pan gestures to the underside of the model with the part. “Das fliegende Kraftwerk in its prime was recognized for the ambitious nature in which Germany sought to furnish its aviating forces with the power of harnessed lightning. Ahh electrical engineering! They sought to further their advancements in their times of conflict yet lacked prudence in their enterprise.”

“What does das fleejand craftwork mean?” You dance your hand over to Pan’s desk for your soda, sipping and filling the air with a grating sound as you poke your straw around for remaining liquid.

Pan lifts a straight hand into the air, splaying his thumb and ring finger as he rocks it back and forth. “The flying power-station! Germany slapped this moniker upon the Focke-wulf due to the irrational quantity of wiring and motor work that overburdened the bombers air-frame. A pity, really. It was to most historical enthusiasts, myself included, a work of art.”

“So the piece in question,” You take another stubborn draw on your soda. “You said it was a bomber, yeah? Because of the bombs it would carry and all that electrical mumbo jumbo did it fail because it was too heavy?”

Pan smacks an elbow against the table and his model skips to the side. While he adjusts it with one hand the other, still holding the sprue, he motions your direction as if he were instead waving a cigarette at you. Delight spreads his lips in a smile faster than his facial muscles can keep up with. “You are close in your supposition meine blume! However, often times failure is a model in and of itself, after all!” Pan pauses as he tilts his head to the side. “Do you..where do you base your assumptions from? Are you perhaps an aficionado of military paraphernalia as I am?”

You shrug your shoulders as you produce a weak smile. “Uhh...video games. I do like military stuff but all my knowledge comes from the games I’ve played and the stuff I’ve read about them,” You nod your head towards his Fallschirmjägergewehr 42 mounted up on his wall. “It uh..like the gun. I based my opinion on what I’ve experienced in different games. A lot of the time if you overload yourself with loot you become encumbered and can’t run. Soo if you make the plane overweight, logically, it can’t fly or will it suffer _heavy_ consequences.”

You dance your eyebrows as you pull your own pun out of the vault.

Pans chest swells as his posture grows larger, his eyes flickering a brighter shade of blue. The corners of his lips jerk as he rakes his mind for a comeback.

You revel in the fact that he doesn’t have one as you shimmy your shoulders. You set your drink to the side and cross your arms over your chest mockingly. “Go on though, I wanna know what,” You pause as you swallow your pun. No, don’t hit him with it yet. Just wait. You suck at your teeth as you look back towards his model. “Like I was sayin’, I wanna know what made it fail.”

Pan strokes his chin as danger skips over his eyes. He looks up in thought before conceding defeat, his posture deflating to normal, and continuing. “Ultimately the demise of the Focke Wulf were catastrophic engine malfunctions. Combined with generators that could effortlessly be punctured by enemy fire and a laughable hydraulics system at best the project was scraped with under a measly ten hours of test flight time logged.”

“So. Let me get this straight,” You lean back as you smirk. “It was a bomber, right?”

“Jaja, ultimately the Focke-Wulf, at least this version here in question, was designed as a quad engine variant meant to deceptively deliver a medium quantity of bombardment,” Pan pauses to scoff. “That is if the blasted thing could even make it across Berlin without stressing its locomotive to oblivion!”

You fill your lungs as if you were the big bad wolf getting ready to blow his whole damn apartment down. Oh you have got him _good._ You lean forward as casually as you can, both elbows on his table, lips peeling back with the greatest shit eating grin you can muster.

“So...you could say it _bombed_?”

The best freakin’ silence you have ever heard consumes the room.

Until Pan begins to roar with laughter. 

_Jackpot._

“Liebling!” Pan accuses and your entire face goes crooked as you struggle with holding back your tirade of  giggles. “That was dreadful!”

“I know and I’m not sorry!” You keel over with laughter, throwing yourself into his couch as you bury your face in your hands. “It was you that said the best ones are don’t judge me!”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Pan licks the tip of his thin paintbrush before dabbing it into a glob of red paint. As if he were threading a needle he positions the tip of his brush against the now completed model. He fills in the number ten before switching to a different brush, already swathed in clear coat, and applies the gloss. 

“I thought you weren’t an artist?” You break the silence that has grown from his focus as you adjust the table lamp. It looks like he could use some better lighting on the slats and aileron. 

Stuff you didn’t know about until he taught you the anatomy of a plane.

“Mmm?” Pan pulls himself back from his task, pleasantly sighing as he flips the loupe up off of his set of jewelers glasses. He lets them slide down the bridge of his nose as he blinks a few times to readjust his sights. “Nein my dear my genius is stretched across the left hemisphere of my intellect and only spontaneously does it titillate the right.~” 

“We’re gonna have to agree to disagree on that. Cause you’re really good with your attention to detail. Like...really good.” 

“Applying the stain to the proper region is nothing more than precision! A touch here, a dabble there, and pursuing a tinctures guideline does not equate to a creative finesse.”

“See, that’s your problem,” you nudge a finger against one of the enamel paint jars. Cobalt blue, and you roll it into your open palm for emphasis. “Guidelines.”

Pan smirks as he pushes his glasses back up his nose. He swings down the loupe as he focuses it, pinching the small radial dial on the side as it ticks to the left. Soon the lens becomes consumed with a blown out version of your face. “Are you attempting to coach your employer?”

He looks like a total goober.

You glance up to the ceiling as you shrug a shoulder, concealing your laughter at his silly looking face with a poorly contrived cough. You dance the vial in your hand like it was instead an old twenty sided die as you test the waters. “Not exactly but...I mean, if you’re down for a suggestion?”

Pan’s eyes flicker between you and the model as you hover a finger over the nose of the Focke-Wulf. You half expect him to bat your hand away, but instead he lifts his eyebrows and smiles.

His receptiveness sends a tickle that starts in your heart and zips through and to the rest of your body. “I-I really like it! I think the reds and silvers really compliment each other. But don’t be afraid to pull out some other colors and do some custom stuff. It’d look wicked cool with some stencil work on the nose,” You bounce your finger over to the fuselage, just behind the cockpit. “Or some gold filigree details here. Just something that could give it that pop, ya know?”

Pan swings to and fro in his seat before kicking his foot against the ground and sending himself in a full on carousel spin. _Look at him go!_ Your eyes widen as his coat claps and the happy bastard almost loses his hat.

It appears as if someone has been sitting for too long and needs to release some energy? Okay then. You tuck some hair behind your ear before tugging at your lobe, you have no idea why you think that’s cute and not absurd.

Well, it still is odd.

In his enthusiasm Pan almost knocks his glasses off as he throws his hands up in the air, arms spread wide, melodious voice thankfully caged by his apartment as he declares, “Ah my young apprentice! Wunderbar! What a splendid idea, truly!” Pan’s posture promptly collapses as he slumps forward, placing a hand on his chin as he taps a finger over his lips. “However my dilemma on the matter at hand? I have already settled myself upon a set of particulars for this piece that would compliment my collection.”

“Oh hey now don’t worry, it was just a suggestion! Maybe you can do it next time if you wanna?” You rub at the back of your neck, shit, you don’t want to pressure him. There is nothing worse than trying to appease someone else when you just want to do your own thing...

“Aha!” Pan proclaims as he slaps his hands together in a clap. His voice catches in his throat as his hands shrink back to fiddle with the buttons on his garb. “Next time! W-would you care for me to possibly purchase another paradigm? T-there is another variant, a duo engine, an-and you could be my assistant once more! Surely you would enjoy engaging in another performance such as this again? Subsequently you could apply your marvelous artistry!”

“Homygod, are you for real?!” You sit up straighter, hope knit between your brows as they arch. You would love to be able to paint one of his planes! He keeps them all neat and tucked together in the curio above his desk, they’re super cool, and to think someone would actually want your work on their collection?!

“Jaja! Certainly so! In the flesh it is I, Pan Darsteller, my dear, and no one else!” Your stomach rocks in a laugh as Pan launches his hands back onto the table, fingers tapping excitedly as if he was banging some keys on a piano. “What say you mademoiselle?!”

You smile a mile wide as you stare down into the warmed cobalt vial in your palm. The liquid purls like a dark ocean wanting to be released. You give it a tender squeeze before your eyes sparkle back up to hover over Pan’s. “I’d really like that! Let’s call it a date, kay?”

Pan’s chest swells as he beams. He nods his head as he holds your gaze, only moving to reach up and adjust his hat that’s starting to slide off and to the left. Your blood burns hot in a rush just before your chest clenches in a tight jerk. Pan’s chuckle is nothing less than merry, and as he stands to stretch, in just watching him you realize a horrible truth.

You face the ground as you place your balled up fist against your heart.

You like him. Like _like_ him.

...You have a crush on your boss.

Your psycho boss.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

🎇💙 Thank you for your Kudos, Bookmarks, and Comments! 💙🎇 

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. It...it was a model. 😅 
> 
> Holly finding out she likes Pan - _You like Krabby Patties don't you squidward?_ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Dedication to the craft - I researched the crap out of that airplane that Pan puts together with Holly, and I watched videos on model assembly. 👀


	16. Dis (Connection) NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pandora’s Actor once told you that as a man of many forms he could understand you as a woman of many worlds. He just never knew the depth of the truth he spoke. Until today. 
> 
> This is an AU to Chapter 45 of Child of Jormungandr. Instead of heading towards the Re-Estize capital after performing [Approach of the Second sun] Holly and Pandora's Actor remain in the fields on the outskirts of the city. What follows is the story below! 
> 
> Forewarning. This is the sappiest stuff I have written yet and your author has no shame.

**✨  Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ D̷̡̥̔̈́i̷̛͖̽̈͜s̶̠̓͌̊͒͘ (Connection) ~

 

 

 

 

When you were younger, somewhere between the years of understanding the world and your place in it, a teacher told you that all the lights in the sky at night were stars. It blew your mind! This of course was coming off the heels of learning that the sun itself was a star, so comprehending that every light in the night was a sun? It was beyond your train of thought. If over a million Earths can fill up the sun, where did that put you in the grand scheme of things?

You were just one girl.

You are still just one girl. Well, something a little bit more than that, but, _ya know_. There’s the whole Supreme being thing to take into consideration. 

The night sky is a satin backdrop for a thousand stars different from the ones back on earth. Two overlapping moons shine through rolling clouds. A breeze carrying the scent of honeysuckle greets your nose. The sweet aroma tickles your gums. 

You lift up from the imprint of yourself that you have made in the grass. As you crane your neck up high, gazing to the stars above, you ask, “Do you know anything about the constellations here?”

A smile breaks out across your face as you turn back to Pandora, who is reaching a hand towards the sky. His sleeve rolls down to his elbow as he draws an invisible line between the stars. He connects them into unrecognizable shapes as he muses, “From what I recall the masses are especially fond of the constellation, ah, well, more of an asterism that they have quite ardently recorded as West-East. ”

“West-East?” You giggle. “That’s kinda...I don’t wanna say dumb, buuut..”

Pandora snaps his fingers and the pop echoes across the hills. Blue swirls of light wrap around his hand. A trail of sapphire dust follows his middle fingers as he swipes to point them at a pair of stars that flank the moons. “Mhmhmhm,” Pandora chuckles. “I believe it is an honest attempt at what is known as a play on words? Would you indulge me, my love?! The folklore that the populace has conjured is admittedly elementary, however, it does make for quite the nice little tale.~”

“I did ask if you knew anything.” Pandora’s eyes arch up as you fit yourself next to his body. He’s warm, and damn, he’s adorable. You lay your head on his chest and make ready for every bump and jerk he’s going to put you through as he tells you this story. At least there’s never a dull moment with him. He never fails to make you smile by just being himself. You love that about him. You love him.

Maybe after his story of West-East you can tell him about the Zodiac sign, Gemini. You think he’d really like that. Your tail curls around his thigh just as Pandora tosses his head back, glittering fingers snapped to his cap, and you can’t help yourself as you squawk out a laugh at how ridiculous this man is.

“Onnnccce upon a time!” Pandora shouts. Your face turns red. _Dork_. “The celebrated king of the far _far_ off lands of Kromerth fostered a child. A bouncing baby girl to be precise! And ah, she was beautiful.~ A sight to behold! Legend says that her laughter alone could cure disease, and one look upon her visage was enough to cease war. This beauty did not go unnoticed, naturally, and caught the wandering eyes of the kings young apprentice.”

You roll your eyes. “Let me guess. The king tells his apprentice that if he goes near his daughter he’ll have his head?”

“Correction! Ah, an appropriate assumption in accordance to most mythos my dear, however, this story breaks the mold as they say. The king was positively thrilled that his chosen saw eyes for his daughter and his daughter alone!”

“Oh,” You drape an arm over his chest as you soften your tone. “..What happens next?”

 “They fell in love before they knew what love was. You see, Winterberry, it all started when the King was making rounds through his kingdom. Upon mighty steed did he trot through the streets and one fine day he witnessed a scoundrel attempting to mug a merchant. The audacity! How dare this whelp threaten the safe haven of Kromerth! That is what the king should have been thinking. Yet, benevolence has a funny way of warping ones natural thought process. Instead of a dastardly villain the king merely witnessed a filthy child, withering away to nothing, attempting to survive.”

You startle as Pandora’s voice suddenly booms. “What say you for your crimes against Kromerth and her people, young man?!”

Silence.

Pandora reaches a lengthy finger towards your cheek and gently prods at you.

Your brows pinch together. What does he wan--

Oh. _Oh no._

This isn’t just a story. This is a _Pandora_ story.

It’s interactive.

Squeezing his thigh something fierce with your tail, all while mustering up your best _‘I’m about to crap my pants tone’_ , you sputter out, “I-I was just hungry, sire! I have not eaten in da--”

“Silence!” Pandora thunders. Your eyes grow wide. Damn, he’s _really_ into this. “Your fate has been decided. I will allow not one of my people to waste. Hear me now! A most fortunate opportunity awaits you! It is on this very day that I do declare you as my first and only apprentice! Huzzah! I shall indoctrinate unto you the ways of chivalry so that you may pass down such acts to those in need such as yourself one day.”

Pandora clears his throat before belting out, “What say you?! Do you accept my proposal?”

“I accept!” 

“Wunderbar!” 

You highly doubt the king spoke a lick of German. 

Pandora pulls you impossibly closer as he dances his feet. Oh, look. Someone is obviously pleased with themselves. _Cute._ A smile tugs at your lips as his fingers curl over your shoulder. “After accepting the offer the boy was made the Kings apprentice.”

“Wait a second. You’re telling me that the King brings in some kid off the street and then is cool with him hooking up with his daughter? With no reservations? Nah. I call bull.”

“It is to my understanding that the King believed that everyone deserved a chance, no matter their cultivation. Some argue that he could view through and to someone’s heart and that is why he plucked the child up and off the streets. Others claim to state that he was merely a fool with uncanny fortune,” Pandora leans in he whispers. “Rumor has it that the King was _actually_ not of royal blood, and that he saw himself in the young man that day.”

“Hmmm,” You strum a finger against one of Pandora’s many buttons. “...I guess that’s okay. The last one, though. I like him seeing himself in the kid the best.”

“A most outstanding opinion that you have, liebling! I am quite partial to that juicy tattle as well. Mostly due to the notion of my genius being rather insatiably curious as to how a mere peasant imposed his way into the Royal family. Assassination? Political manipulation? Perhaps he--”

“Pandora.”

“Ahaha, I get ahead of myself. Mmm, now, where was I? Ah, jaja, after a few lessons, some in swordplay and others in general education, the king could not help but notice the frequency in which his daughter would attend these classes. He was no fool, mind you. He knew from the way that his daughter and apprentice locked eyes that they were hypnotized by one another.”

Pandora sighs romantically. “Oh, the joys of young love! The two were like magnets. It did not matter how far apart they drifted they always snapped back to one another other and melded as two souls in love often do. Which leads us to the origin of the chronicle of our story! After many years of peace the kingdom of Kromerth entered a war struck by an alliance in dire need of their assistance. The kings apprentice was sent in his stead so that the king may continue to oversee his territory in such trying times.”

“Oh my god, did he die?!”

“Fortunately this is not Shakespere, Geliebte. Although he had been presumed dead he did indeed return! It was due to the impossible odds of his daughter and apprentice’s courtship that he dubbed the brightest stars in the sky after them and their story of love. From the tragic cliche of peasant to princess, through the roads of hormones, to coming back from his supposed death to his daughter did the king righteously dub their tale of love West-East.” 

“It’s West-East because...Oh. Ohhh, I get it now!  That’s actually really sweet, damn,” Your tail begins to thump against Pandora’s thigh. “Is there any more? Did they get married?”

Two pale sphere’s form between Pandora’s fingers. Above the tips of his nails twin lights of the stars above take shape. They fizzle and pop like fireworks as he twirls his fingers, commanding them to  oscillate the moons in his grasp. “Indeed they did! Under the Kings blessing a new tradition of marriage was formed. Instead of the bride walking towards her groom, in Kromerth, when two are to be betrothed, they stroll towards one another other--”

You snap up from Pandora’s chest, looking to his face, eyes sparkling as you gasp, “One from West, the other from East, until they meet in the middle!”

Pandora launches his mock asterism into the sky and it explodes into a hologram of the galaxy. Thousands of stars twinkle shades of blue so bright they shine turquoise. “Precisely!”

You’re beaming. Grinning from ear to ear as you reach towards a star and press your finger through it. The holographic light jerks in a jagged streak around your finger, only settling when you pull back. “That’s…Now that’s freakin’ _cool_.”

Pandora’s adam's apple bobs as he squeaks, “Y-You truly believe as such?!”

“Of course! It’s just...it’s wow,” You shake your head, mouth still slightly agape. Your vision blurs for a moment as stars begin to collect and shimmer red. Blinking a few times seems to clear up your sights. Ugh, that’s strange. Okay then, anyways, you paw at your eyes before continuing. “Weird. Anyways, it’s just...Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you a story.”

“Prithee do tell, meine liebe! I desperately thirst for any knowledge you so charitably choose to bestow upon my unworthy self!”

“Stop that,” You clap a hand against the side of his face. “No more of _that_ or I. Won’t. Tell. my. Story.~”

Pandora emits a petite gasp as he feverishly nods his head. You crawl up onto his chest, tail swishing behind you as you smirk. “Good. That’s what I thought. Okay, so, the story is kinda short but meh, I really like it. And it’s not really a story so much as something I like. Back home there’s this religion called Hinduism. I read somewhere that the color blue encircles the religion and symbolizes hope and purity.”

You smile as Pandora brushes a finger against one of your facial scales. “It’s why their gods have blue skin. Kind how Zoba looks! Ya know, when I was a kid, before my Mom would pick me up from school, I liked to lay in the grass like we are now. I’d stare up at the sky and the blue was so bright it was blinding and I’d have to look away. Once I learned what blue meant in Hinduism I always associated that feeling I’d get when looking at the sky with it. Like it was so much bigger than me, like I couldn’t stare at something so pure, so I’d have to look away.”

You sniffle as your nose starts to run. It always gets like this w̵h̵e̷n̷ ̵i̷t̴ is ̵c̵o̴l̷d̴ outside. “This reminds me of that feeling and I love it. I’m sorry that my story isn’t as cool as yours but--”

Pandora’s shoulders tighten as he smears a thumb across your upper lip. “Winterberry, your nose is dripping blood! Are you quite alright?!”

“Wait, what?” You’ve never had a nose bleed before. What the hell? You take in a sharp breathe ̴ ̴t̷h̷r̶o̷u̸g̷h̶ ̴y̸o̷u̷r̶ nose. A stuffy garbled sound fills the air followed by the all knowing copper taste of blood caking itself to your tongue. Warm and wet red smudges across your forearm as you wipe at your nostrils. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine.” 

Whatever. No b̵̯̊ḯ̴͚g̶͕̽ deal.

“Back to what I was saying,” Pandora whines as he wipes at your nose once more. You wave him off. “Shoo. So, that’s why I think this is so awesome! I love galactic stuff, and blue has always been my favorite color. It’s why I added so much of it into my avatar. However,” You bite your lip as you glide your palm a̴g̷a̸i̵n̵s̶t̸ Pandora’s jawline. “I also really find myself liking yellow, red, and black here of late..”

Just underneath Pandora’s hollow eyes flush a soft hue of pink. You lift your brows in a tease. “You are _so_ easy to fluster.”

“Would you care to know why I have an appreciation for the color b̷̺̼̽͒l̷̬̱̓̓̂̇͜û̵͕̳̠̹̎̈́̈́ẻ̷̦̭͖̈́̄ͅ as well, Winterberry?”

Pandora laughs as you throw his hand away from you, stopping his greedy self from diving any lower. You flop off of his chest and back to his side,̸ ̴c̸r̶o̶s̵s̴i̸n̶g̴ ̶y̸o̵u̶r̴ ̷a̵r̶m̶s̷ ̶a̸s̷ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̶d̸a̴r̵t̵ ̵y̴o̷u̴r̸ ̷e̶y̷e̵s̶ ̶a̶w̵a̸y̸. He continues to laugh. “Such a perplexing reaction! What was that you spoke of, Schätzchen? Something about the ease in which I alarm?!”

You snap your head back to Pandora with an accompanying crinkle of your nose. ̸̘̰̈́Ḋ̷̡̦̫͉̃͘͝ǫ̷͉̘̈́̔͂͠ư̷͔̹͒̇b̸̤͗͊̀l̶͉̳̽̒̚e̵̖̣̹̔̎ ̸̖̆v̸̥̫̩̝́̓̕i̵̟̝͕̓͌̅s̶̗̘̐̓̋i̵̭͈̤̹͋ỏ̴̧͊͛n̵̞̰̜͆̐ consumes your eyesight and nets your head in vertigo. You must have turned his way entirely too quickly. The three black holes that make up Pandora’s face bleed together in a swirl. ̷D̵i̸z̴z̶i̸n̶e̴s̴s̷.̶ The area around you begins to spin. Pressure builds behind your eyes, tighter and tighter. Your jaw pops. It’s so much. Too much, like a vice, and you think you are about to burst into a million pieces!

...And then it’s gone.

Your vision glazes as you ̴w̵e̵a̶k̶l̵y̸ ̷p̶a̵t̴ Pandora’s arm. “Pandora,” You warn. “I-I think that food from earlier is trying to kill me.”

That chicken on a stick was suspiciously pink in the center. 

The glare from the stars reflects on Pandora’s face. You think you’re going crazy because the glow is red and looks like numbers purling on a lakes surface. Your brows pinch together. O̶n̴e̵ ̵t̸h̵o̶u̷s̸a̶n̴d̶,̴ ̷t̶w̸o̴ ̷h̷u̸n̶d̷r̷e̷d̴,̵ ̵a̷n̷d̷ ̴o̵n̴e̶.̶ What?

By the time Pandora’s voice reaches you  it s̷o̵u̸n̵d̷s̵ like he’s talking in slow motion. Blood trickles from your nose and trails down your lips and to your chin in streams. ̶“̴H̴o̸l̴l̷y̶.̶.̵.̵c̴a̵n̸.̸.̴.̸y̸o̷u̴.̶.̷.̴h̵e̷a̸r̵.̶.̶.̴m̵e̵?̵!̷”̵

You groan as you try to nod your head. Somewhere between your brain sending the message to your head to move something fizzled out and failed. 

Pandora has you in his arms. You know he has you in his embrace because you can see him, but you can not feel him. You are numb,l̸i̷k̶e̸ ̵t̸e̶l̶e̵v̷i̸s̴i̶o̸n̶ ̸s̴t̷a̶t̸i̸c̵.

You try to think. W̸̧̦̞̼̽̐̔̾ȟ̷̩̱̎̓̅ă̶̤̥̙̇͠t̸̗̥͖̾ͅ ̴̡̝̲̥̏́̎ȋ̷̼̖̻͂͌̆s̶̝͋ ̶̨̛͔̗̳ḩ̸̹ă̶̩͇͙̙̈́p̶̺̺͍̟̉̓p̵̹͂̈́̒e̵͔͒͗n̵͇͊̈i̵͍͒̃̓--You can’t form complete thoughts. Bobbing up and down, like a drowning man who can barely keep his head above water and every breath is riddled with too much liquid and not enough air.  

You can’t hear Pandora. Not over the mechanical hum that has struck your ears. An ionized burn, like frayed wires that have finally expired, fills your nostrils. T̸h̵e̶ ̸s̶m̸e̶l̸l̷ ̸m̴i̵x̷e̴s̶ with the blood dribbling down your throat, and it should make your stomach sour, but before you can register the nausea you feel nothing at all.

 

Before everything goes d̵a̸r̷k̴,̴ ̷s̶o̵m̷e̶w̷h̶e̵r̶e̷ ̷b̶e̸t̶w̴e̵e̸n̴ ̴f̷e̷e̸l̷i̸n̵g̴ like a part of yesterday ̵a̸n̸d̶ ̸t̷h̵a̷t̸ today ̴w̵a̷s̷ ̸o̷n̵l̸y̷ ̶e̴v̷e̴r̶ ̴a̷ ̸d̴r̸e̷a̶m̸,̸ ̸y̵o̴u̸ ̶c̶a̴n̵ ̵f̶a̶i̸n̴t̴l̵y̴ h̴̻̚͜ȅ̸̘̖̦̦͛̎á̷͎̪̬̒̄ͅr̶̜͌̑̓̚ ̵͈͐͑̿P̴̖͠ą̶̲͓́̓͆n̶̬͐͐̑d̴̼̎̒̈͂ō̶̤̭̍͂͗r̵̛̼̈̈́̋a̷̬̦̅̂̆͘͜ͅ ̶̨̥̬̍͜ś̴̞̾c̴͎̖̀̈́̈́̆r̵̗͒e̸̖̥e̷̱͓̲͌̀c̵̭̬̳͌̉̍̎h̸̻̽͛ḯ̸̹̫͎͊̋n̸͔̭̏͑g̴͚̰̅̑̚ ̶̤̘̝̮̓y̵̙͂͊ó̸̮̰͔ư̵̰̮͇̓͑̏r̷̻̳̭̄͛͆ ̷̑͌n̶̛̮̔̈͂͐̓͋͑̌̽͛̂͑̇͌͂̓͛̉̈́͆͂͑̈́̔̕͝͝ą̸̡̮͙͇̬͖̱͉̺͍̲̠̞͎͙̯͙̰̥̬̞̦̬̩̗͔̭̄͂̊͂̄̄̌̏̂̏͌̓m̸̧̡͕͙̹̺̝̹̳̣̈́̅̾̊͊̋̿̈́̄͌͒̀̃̊̏̈́̈́̚ẻ̴̛͔̔̉̈́̌̍̓̿̿͒̉͘͝

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Muffled cackling. Husky, and rattled around a cough from a set of lungs scarred from years of drug abuse. The roar of sitcom laughter. Dogs barking. The clicking of untrimmed toenails stampeding across floor boards. A waft of cigarette smoke.

An alarm clock flashing 12:01am.

You touch your forehead as your vision starts to come to. Cold, smooth plexiglass greets your fingertips. A familiar white text edged in blue sharpens before your eyes.

Your breathe hitches. Terror pricks up and down your spine like it’s a xylophone.

 

 

**Servers Offline.**

 

Thank you for playing Yggdrasil.

 

 

  
Wait, wait, wait, wait, nonononono. Thi-This is a joke. This is a joke! Just a joke. Right?! Right?! You close your eyes and count to ten. That will fix it. This isn’t happening. One, two...eight, nine, you fill your lungs, ten. There, you should be back in the field with Pandora and…

 

 

**Servers Offline.**

 

Thank you for playing Yggdrasil.

 

 

  
You snap forward, fingers beating at your keyboard as you search for a way to kick your dive back in. That will get you back in. That **has** to get you back in. Your stomach drops as your desktop shifts to its nostalgic display loaded with rows of icons to the left. Search engines. Editing programs. Other games. _Yggdrasil._  

Left click, close application, double click, reopen. Launch.

The same mocking text hovers before your eyes seconds later. Your blood runs cold. No..Nononono. You’re going to wake up any minute now and be back in the field, or at Nazarick. This is just a bad dream, just a joke, like when you thought you were back home when you first transferred. 

A nervous laughter tickles your bottom lip as you lift your dive gear off of your head. You pull out the silvery chord that connects you to your computer from the back of your neck. The skin around your port entry is tender and burns. 

A wince drags at the corners of your mouth as you slide the cord back in. You wiggle your helmet back on and into place.

Nothing happens.

You fall back into your empty throne.

Your hair follows your helmet as you take it off once more. Strands drop across your face and stick to your cheeks as tears slip from your eyes. You choke on a sob as you glance towards your alarm clock. It now reads 12:06am.

_This can’t be happening, this can’t b-be happening._

Wet streaks glide down your dive gears visor. Tighter and tighter you hug it as close as you can to your chest. I-I-It-it’s all gone. N-Nazarick is…

12:07am. Yo-You were only gone for a minute. It was just...one minute? How, why, wha..?! Your mind races as your eyes dart around the room. Are you just going crazy? Did you make this all up? Is there a chance you just dozed off for a half second and let your imagination run wild?!

All thoughts cease like a train hitting an endless concrete wall. That concrete wall is the realization that ther-there’s..there’s no way back. _Oh my god._ You bring your knees up to your chest as you continue to cradle your helmet. Loneliness cloaks you in an invisible veil. You fit your fingers together, interlacing them, and as soon as they’re joined the tears flowing from your eyes begin to drop like thunder.

Pandora. Oh goddd, _Pandora._

You refuse to believe this is it. This can’t be it! You lunge forward, thrusting your dive gear back on and all it’s necessary accessories, and attempt to once again strike at your keyboard. Come on, damn it! Adrenaline sends a heat through your arms and legs. You run a system diagnostics on Yggdrasil and click on the icon in every way you possibly can in the hope that maybe something will happen by chance. 

Nothing does. Your last resort is to uninstall the game and reinstall it. You bite your lip.

Fuck it. This is the last course of action but it’s all you can think of to do.

 

 

Are you sure you want to uninstall this application? 

 

 

Hesitation floods your already shaking hand. What if..no, no. **No.** Don’t think that, there’s no time for that. Not right now. Double click. Yggdrasil has been uninstalled. In record time you are already scanning through your downloads folder and searching for the reactivation prompt.

Found it. Select, launch, reinst--

 

**Error 401**

We are sorry; This application is no longer supported. The window will close now.

 

 

  
What?! No! Not just no, hell no, there is no way--

You get the same message every time you try.

Several keys pop off of your keyboard and are sent flying as you slam your fists against it. That was it! Mother fucker! Th-This is it. It’s all g-gone, you can’t believe it’s all gone! Nazarick, Momonga, the floor guardians, Carne Village, magic, Pandora. _Pandora._

You’ll never see him again. There was so much you still wanted to tell him! There were still so many things left to do! Yo-You both were immortal, you had plans, plans to spend an eterni--  Oh no, oh god no, this can’t be happening. What were your last words to him, did you tell him you love him, what’s going to happen to him..?!

You tremble as you remove your dive gear a final time and leave it to rest on your desk. As you curl into yourself you tunnel your fingers through your hair up and to your scalp. You weep again as you pretend that your fingers are his, fitting their way through your hair the same way they did when he told you he loved you the first time. 

_‘I love you, Winterberry. I believe I have since I first laid eyes on you.’_

Your room is dark, cold, and the tears splashing to the floor below show no hints of gold.

A breeze kicks up in your bedroom. You shiver. The clapping of fabric against the wind pulls you out of the comfort of your memory. You don’t remember leaving your window open, but then again, you don’t feel like you know anything right now other than you just want to die.

After Carne Village and accomplishing Adamantite you were going to head back to Nazarick with him. The two of you had plans to spend time together in the Treasury, h-he wanted to read you Romeo and Juliet. Fuck, just when you think you are going to catch a break from crying the tears start to flow heavier. Corny bastard, adorable, corny, b-bastard…

_He’s gone._

Your bottom lip quivers. You wish you could have told him you loved him one last time. One last hug, j-just one more kiss. 

You weakly raise your head towards your alarm clock. You have uh, work in the morning. Sniffle. Like you give a shit. Not like you’re going, why did you even think about work? You rub your palms against your eyes to clear your tear ducts so that you can see what time it is.

You still can’t view your alarm clock. Instead, you see the red glow from it wrapping around the edges of a shadow before you. A figure. The room is blanketed in darkness. Your computer monitor has cycled off and is on standby due to inactivity. 

“M-Mom..?” Your heart skips an uncomfortable beat. Too tall to be your mother, your bedroom door is still closed, and the only other way in..

...would have been through the window you left open.

The figure bends, extending what you can barely make out to be a long, slender claw your way. You freeze. Deer in the headlights. A single tear rolls down your cheek. You don’t scream. Th-There’s nothing to scream for. If mercy exists, if you have any good fortune left in your karmic bank, you just hope this all ends quickly.

You squeeze your eyes shut as what you’ve labeled as the grim reaper himself leans closer. Heh, you kinda hope he asks if you have any last words. You’ll just laugh, shake your head, and say that today really sucks.

The figure’s claw swallows your thigh. Your shoulders tighten. A whimper, followed by a wash of warm breathe coats your cheek. “..H-Holly?”

You _know_ that voice. Even through a nervous whisper you can catch his melodious and happy tone, and you’re a total wreck all over again as you open your eyes to see two empty holes staring back. 

“P-Pando-dora?!” Your hands fly to his face, fingers greedy as they roam his smooth cheeks. “Oh my goddd, it’s actually you, wha, h-how are you, how did you--!?”

Pandora snakes his arms around your waist as he nestles his forehead against yours. “Ohhhh my dearest Winterberry,” He coos. “How you worried me so! I truly believed I had lost you!”

“Fuck, you almost gave me a heart attack,” You rasp out a tired laugh. “You have _no_ idea how glad I am to see you right now. H-How in the hell, holy shit you are an absolute fucking madman, how did you get here?!”

“V-Vergib mir, I-It was not my intention to rouse you into trepidation! Liebling, you were evaporating before my very eyes, it was all happening so very quickly, I-I had to act accordingly! I-I,” Pandora inhales sharply as you remove his cap and gently stroke the crown of his head. _Shhh._ His posture relaxes as he melts into you before continuing. “All of the guardians can respectively experience a supreme beings immaculate presence at all times on proximity. We can feel the sheer power, the very color, the warmth of each of your divine spirits. For example! Geliebte, you are most prominently a watercolor of the most beautiful shades of dancing gold, closely followed by a river of many other illustrious hues. When you are near to me those colors fill in the gaps of my crafted soul and make me feel whole. Without a supreme being, without you, we, I, I am nothing more than a canvas with but a few strokes from a paint brush swathed in grey.”

Pandora holds you tighter. “You were fading, vanishing! I could not stand to dare to even think of losing you, not again, Winterberry, not again. The wondrous ebb and flow of our connection faltered several times before you fell positively limp in my arms. However, for a critical and most thankful moment, through my minds eye I caught the unmistakable golden ribbon of your essence! I followed the pattern, the wavelength of your soul, until it led me here, for I cannot allow for you to not have a guardian, you _must_ have a guardian, you are Nazarick’s magnum opus and it is my sworn duty as treasu--”

You press a hand over his mouth to end his rambling. Pandora whimpers. “Shhh. It’s okay, calm down. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m pretty sure that I uh...Yeahhh,” You gulp as you take a long sweeping glance around your room. So many questions. So many fucking questions! You chew on your cheek before turning back to Pandora. There’s one that stands out above the rest. “Give me an honest answer. Do you think there’s a way back? For both of us.”

“Without further analysis I can not be certain. The reservoir in which my magic resides within me is utterly spent. Until the time comes that I am able to research the constraints and changes to my abilities in this world my answer unto you will remain ambiguous. However!” Pandora shoots up from his kneeling position and stomps his boots together.

_Oh no._

You furiously shake your head, hands waving in front of you as Pandora salutes down to you and booms, “Fear not, my love! I, Pandora’s Actor, along with my right boot are present! It is my sworn oath as your guardian and betrothed to--!”

“Pandora, shut up!” You launch out of your seat to cover his mouth. Damn it, just this once, can he not be so dramatic?!

Hunks of stucco drift from your ceiling as a fist slams against your door. The belligerent knocks echo through the house. You shut your eyes and wince as a familiar husky smokers voice begins to rant on the other side. “What on good god’s green earth are you doing in there?! Is that a man?! Holly, I swear to Christ, answer this door or I will get my cane and beat it down!”

You tightly ball up the lapels of Pandora’s uniform as you seethe, “Can you transform?!” Pandora cocks his head to the side and you shake him back and forth. “Isaidcanyoutransform?!”

Pandora lifts his hand. As he tents his fingers they begin to bubble and shorten. “Jaja, I am still a doppelganger, after all! What is it that you wish to see my form take shape into? How may I appease your hungry eyes.~”

“Uh, uh, uh, I don’t know, I don’t care, just something, just turn into a, a, turn into a cat! Yeah, a cat!”

“Understood!” Pandora swings an arm behind his back as he bends at his chest.

“Holly!” Your Mom shrieks. 

“Pandora,” You grit your teeth. “Now?!”

“Uhhh, what exactly is a cat?”

Your arms fall to your sides. Your face blanks. “You can’t be serious right now.”

The back of Pandora’s hand smacks against his forehead as he tilts his head up and away from you. “I am a disappointment! A failure! Woe truly is me, my ignorance has fashioned a frustration in you that is sure to seed resentment! My love, please, but a picture of this mystical curiosity and I will make amends!”

You are going to kill him.

“God damn it, Holly!” Your Mom wails. “Answer this fucking door!”

Well, at least Pandora now knows where you got your colorful vocabulary from.

You mutter unintelligibly as you rapidly punch at your keyboard’s space bar. Come on, come on, wakey wakey! Your screen lights up. Finally! While opening up a search engine you motion for Pandora. As you go to type in _Cat_ your finger grazes a sharp prong. Your lips peel back as you gripe in realizing that the C key was one of the ones you managed to launch off of your keyboard earlier.

_Ughhh, auto correct, don’t fail me now!_

If auto correct can change fuck to duck, surely it can pick up on space, A, then T, and yes! First thing that comes up is Cat. 

You point at the hundreds of cat images that begin to load in. “One of these! Pick one! Wait, no, not the green one, cat’s aren’t green, they’re about as tall as my shin and they go meow! Got it?!”

“But of course! I shall not fail you again, for your most humble desire is my honorful command!” Pandora retrieves his cap just in time for his body to yank towards the ground while his skin, clothes, and bones rearrange to fit his new form.

Thank god almighty he doesn’t need MP to shape shift.

Grimacing, you begin to open your door. As soon as your mother hears the knob click she damn near throws herself inside. 

“What the hell are you even doing up so late at night, let alone making such a ruckus?! ” You roll your eyes. Definitely didn’t miss her. “Turn your shit down. I’ve been waiting for this episode of Generic Hospice for a week.”

She leans in and jabs at your chest with a hooked finger. “Who was that talking just now?”

“Sorry Ma, must’ve uh…,” Your eyes dart around the room, looking for something, anything-- Aha! “My headphones! Yeah, they came out and I had my music up on full volume. Some advertisement interrupted the song and that’s probably who you heard. Sorry about that.”

Sneering, she says, “You're gonna blow out an eardrum if you keep blasting that nonsense into your skull,” She turns to make an exit. Your shoulders relax. “Don’t you have work in the morning? You should get to bed.”

Work is the _last_ thing on your mind right now. “Don’t worry about me,” You fake a yawn. “I’m going to bed soon.”

Just as she goes to exit, _finally_ , she stops. Damn. 

“When did you get a cat?!” She spits. You were really hoping she wouldn’t see him. Here we go.“Were you even going to ask me abou-”

“Meow!~”

A dark chill slides down your spine. Slowly, you turn to face Pandora, err, Catdora? Pandora. Blood drains from your face, leaving you pale, for he does not _meow_.

He says the word.

“Did that cat just say meow?!”

Quick, gotta think of something! 

“Mom!” You squawk. Throwing her your best accusing look you do what you can to make yourself as tall as possible. “Have you been upping your pain pills again!? Ugh! I swear, if your doctor finds out..”

“It’s just to take the edge off!” She tosses her hands up defensively. Bingo. “It’s not like I’m poppin’ em’ like a damn pez dispenser!”

“Bullshit. You just said that the cat _said_ meow. You’re high off your ass, aren’t you?”

“I’m going back to my room.” Sulking, she makes her way out of your bedroom. As the door closes she hisses, “Just keep it down.”

“Holy shit, that was close,” Muttering, you face Pandora and throw him a look. _The look_. “Meow?! Really??”

Pandora struts over to you, slinking his body against your ankle as he chuckles. “You did say that cats say meow, darling.~”

As he continues to rub himself along your legs you narrow your eyes. He does have a point. 

You sink down into your bed. It’s as comfortable as you remember it. 

Bending down to scoop up Pandora you notice that he is really damn heavy. Like, bowling ball heavy. Seriously? You grunt as you set his mass in your lap and he’s purring so loud he’s practically vibrating. Of course he would pick the largest cat he saw. Eh, at least he’s fluffy. Cute as all hell, and as you stroke his left ear your heart swells in overwhelming fondness.

You don’t know what you would be doing right now without him. Well, that’s not entirely true. You _do_ know, but you’d rather not think about that right now. Dark thoughts.

“So,” you fiddle with his whiskers. “You can get _that_ right but you can’t figure out that cats don’t actually say meow?”

“It is an involuntary reaction.~” Pandora continues to purr.  

“Yeah huh,” You tease, and then pause before swallowing thickly. “...So. You’re not gonna ask?”

“Process of elimination dictates that she was your maternal figure,” Pandora states before offering a weary chuckle. “Anecdotal evidence also behests that your relations with her seem rather strained. At this junction of time I did not wish to trouble you for details.”

“You’re fine,” You run your fingers through his fur, down all the way to his tail where you give him a playful twirl. Then you huff a sigh. “She’s just a bitch.”

“Would you take delight in her eradication by my hand?” Pandora hops out of your lap to sit beside you. Through window blinds the moon perfectly carves his feline silhouette. Sadistically chipper, Pandora’s tail flicks to and fro as he awaits an answer.

You’d think that this would surprise you, but it doesn’t. Instead, it’s oddly comforting. Not comforting in the sense that you want him to go and ice your mom, because yeah, how about no. It’s that it’s reassuring to you that he’s somehow here, still himself, and with you.

However, this does bring an issue to a head. His emphatic allegiance to you in terms of how he sees you as a ‘Supreme being’ has gotta go. That won’t work here, because only God knows what he might do if someone were to cut you off in traffic.

You tell Pandora a big fat no to his offer as you lay down. Scratching at the fabric of your shirt, you gesture for him to come and curl up on your stomach. It’ll be adorable, he’ll look like a little croissant and...oh. A plague of insecurity jerks your heart into an irregular beat.

A-another problem. You throw a pillow down across your middle as Pandora arches his back in a stretch. Amidst this chaos you have neglected to remember that you aren’t your perfect avatar anymore. You’re you.

Just…you.

As Pandora takes rest on the pillow you have strewn across your belly you wonder what he thinks of you, or rather, what he is going to think of you as time goes on. Of course, there is still a high to be ridden off of the situation that’s happened and is _still_ happening. However, what are you now? Well, that’s easy enough to answer. Human. Ordinarily human. 

No more cosmic power at the tips of your fingers. Rubbing your fingers together, you try to simulate the feeling of your magic. The rush, that open universe in your chest that made you feel powerful, has collapsed. All that’s left is the beat of your heart. An emptiness draws a pit in your stomach at that loss.

Worst of all, and fuck you hate that you can’t get this off of your mind right now to focus on things that are _way_ more important, but proof of a life that you lived outside of Nazarick rests below Pandora. A paunch of belly fat, bands of stretch marks from childhood growth spurts and not enough cocoa butter, freckles that dapple your body like shit thrown through a fan.

Knicks and cuts across various places. Frayed and splits ends of dry auburn hair. And, right now, if you remember right? Some lingering stubborn makeup from work the day before. Dolled up and in the right mood you’ve never had an issue with self confidence too much, but at this moment, in all your _don’t judge me I’m comfortable_ glory? You feel downright hideous, and your only saving grace is that you recall quickly showering before hopping on Yggdrasil for a final time.

You dig the back of your head deep into your pillow. Gazing to the ceiling above, you grimace as the many plastic stars that have lost their glow over the years mock you. The phantom tickle of grass pricks at your bare arms. You close your eyes. How long will it take for Pandora to regenerate his magic? Shit, how will his magic even work here? Will it work? And if it does…

 _Will he just leave you here?_ What if coming to you was a mistake? You’re not Holly Leonhardt, second in command to Nazarick with flowing red and blue hair and super tier magic. You’re just a girl. Just a girl that’s been ripped between worlds twice now and you’re absolutely terrified of what’s going to happen next.

Cupping your hand into a C shape, you comb over Pandora’s soft muzzle, to his ears, and down his back. A smile pulls at your lips as he makes that happy cat sound, you know the one, and fuck him for making you giggle right now. You don’t look down to him. 

A part of you is scared that this is just an act. Pandora, _Pandora’s Actor._ Is that why he is so quiet right now? Because he’s thinking the same thing you are? He wasn’t following _you_ per se when he came here, he was chasing your avatar, a figment of who you are, he was--

Without warning, Pandora launches off of your stomach and lands at the foot of the bed. Meanwhile, you sound off like you have just taken a punch to the gut. With an arm bent to support yourself you sit up, canvassed with a scowl, stopping halfway as Pandora rises to his hind legs. 

With a low groan his body starts to contort and bubble. His head cracks left, then right, and what follows makes your nose crinkle. The cracking of bones. Kinda sounds like popcorn in a microwave. Pandora’s shoulders broaden as his form expands. Fur cascades down his back in one seemingly endless swoop to recreate his coat. As it falls down his back you glimpse a peak of his uniform sewing itself together, along with muscle tissue and mass filling in the segments of his spine. 

With a loud exhale he makes landfall upon the pillow beside your head. As he nudges himself into a more comfortable position, folding one leg over the other, you smirk. “Comfy?”

Pandora heaves a contented sigh. “While a small form does have its perks, I prefer myself.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve only ever seen you shift around bodies your size or within reason of your size. Never anything small like a cat, so it was kinda cool to see what it looks like. I could see your insides and stuff.”

“How down right scandalous of you, liebling! To view me in such light without permission.~”

“As if.” Giggles fall from your mouth and seem to fuse with Pandora’s hushed chuckling. Save for the breathing and the occasional clinking of Pandora’s belt chains as he shifts his position, the room soon finds itself caught in a net of silence.

You splay your fingers out as Pandora fits his within yours. He wiggles and shimmies to get as close to you as possible. Eyes drifting down to the foot of your bed, you start to feel kinda bad. It’s not a twin size bed at least, but it is still just a full. It’s nothing compared to the comfort of your canopy set in Nazarick. This is increasingly apparent as Pandora swings a boot up to rest atop the bed’s bottom board. Poor bastard is mushed up like an extra sardine stuffed in an already full tin can.

What’s the opposite of butterflies in your stomach? Stone. Cold stone settles itself in your gut and everything just feels so damn heavy. You frown. Fuck, he doesn’t belong here. How is this fair to him? Maybe..maybe he should go back. Ugh, why are you even thinking that?! You don’t want him to go, you still don’t even know if he can, but seeing him cramped up like this? They always say if you love them let them go..

...But you can’t. You never understood that line and damn it to hell if you’re going to try and figure that out now. If you love them let them go? No. That’s stupid. Who let’s love go? Isn’t love worth fighting for?

_But what does he want?_

You have to figure this out. Together. _You hope._ To simulate the feeling of your tail, you fit the curve of your foot underneath your ankle. Bravely, you squeeze Pandora’s hand as you break the silence. “..What do we do now?”

Pandora doesn’t answer you immediately. That’s okay. You know it’s not an easy question. By the time he does answer you, however, he releases a sigh that sounds like he has been holding his breath this entire time. “I have an innumerable quantity of theories that I have been meticulously mulling over. However, they all lead to one conclusion where the risks far out match any tangible benefits.”

You gulp. “Such as…?”

“I deathly fear the repercussions you could face. This, how to say, dimensional hopping is an unknown variable to me. Although I am optimistic that with time I may be able to return to Nazarick I can not confidently declare the same for you. Odds are in favor of less than desirable odds and jeopardizing your security is worth no boon to one such as I.”

“...I was afraid you’d say something along the lines of that.”

“Ho-However! Meine dame, to provide you with an accurate answer to the issue upon us I have one simple and effective solution! S-surely you take solace in having sole possession of your chosen guardian?” Pandora emits a soft whine as he hooks a finger around your pinkie. “Perhaps my presence is a moderate remedy?”

“Of course, of course it is!” You stare at him glassy eyed. Shrugging your shoulders, you frantically try to put it together for him that, “This, just, this...Ugh. Okay. Look, this world is _different_. This world has rules. I’m not trying to patronize you or anything but things are so much different here. Frankly? They suck. We just went from the top of the food chain to the bottom of the food chain. Actually, the bottom of the food chain even feeds on us.”

You heave a sigh. “There’s just...so much. I don’t even know where to start! Ya know how they say just start at the beginning, then? Well, that’s like trying to unscramble eggs. It’s not possible, there is no beginning. It’s all just this jumbled mess of politics, technology, mega corporations, and a bunch of other crap.”

“Why, my dear, it is within my very nature to adapt! Comprehending societies niche odds and ends along with melding in amongst the masses is what I claim to do best! Worry not for my sake. Ahaha I will have this worlds nuances learned within the week I am certain of it,” Pandora’s lengthy fingers pinch his chin as he pretends to stroke a goatee that doesn’t exist. “Quite possibly sooner, actually.”

Your posture deflates as you gaze down to your floor. Crumpled soda cans litter an already full trash can next to your desk. An inch layer of dust, you’re sure, rests atop bookshelves cluttered with shit you haven’t touched in years. Piles of dirty laundry in an already overflowing hamper. A fist sized hole in the wall from previous tenants and a landlord who takes months to fulfill a maintenance request. 

Sure, yes. He can learn. You know how intelligent he is and just what he is capable of. But that doesn’t mean he should have too.

You pull on your blanket for comfort. After noticing that the material is far too nice to be your bed sheets you notice that it’s nothing other than Pandora’s coat, so you hold it tighter as you rasp, “I wouldn’t blame you. I’d get it, really, but,” you swallow the lump that has suddenly formed in your throat as you ask, “If you do find a way back, and I can’t go with you, would you...would you leave without me?”

“Nein.” 

“You didn’t even think about what I said.”

“I do not have too. The alternative is inadmissible.”

Deep breathe. Just take the time you need to blink away the tears that are stinging at the corners of your eyes. They threaten to fall with every second that goes by, and fight it with all your might, but in this moment, not even you can stop them from rippling down your face like a mask beginning to crack.

It’s okay. It’s okay, right? Sniffle. You bite your lip. “...I’m not,” You mutter, then pause. The words come out harsher than intended, but nevertheless, you’re saying them with a bite meant more for yourself than him.  “This place sucks, Pandora. It’s not somewhere you should be, and, and, I’m no longer a Supreme being. There, I said it. I’m scared of what that means to you, because, now? I’m nothing, I’m just me, I’m--”

Pandora’s voice is thick, and he sounds lost as he stares at your ceiling and says, “What am I now if not Nazarick’s Treasury guardian?”

_What._

You whip your head to face him, brows tightly knit together. “Don’t you _even_ dare say that, you’re still--”

“Precisely,” Pandora brings your hand into his. “I am still Pandora’s Actor, and you are still the woman I love so dearly. Other than your form, what truly has changed other than your surroundings?” Pandora shakes his head as he chuckles, “I believe I have a greater understanding of your situation than you think I do.”

“You would say something like that, wouldn’t you?” Tears swell as they glide down your cheeks. Your chest heaves around a choked sob as you rub an arm across your eyes. “Ya know, you were all I could really think about when this all happened? When I opened my eyes and saw my computer screen all I could think about was how to get back to you. I was so scared that I’d never see you again, that, that I’d never get to tell you that I love you again.”

“Ohhh, Holly,” Pandora breathes. While smearing away your tears with a thumb he uses his other hand to remove his cap. Fitting his forehead against yours, he swoons, “Ich liebe dich sehr, Winterbeere. Du bist mein ewiger Stern.”

“I love you, uh, Winterberry,” More sniffling, followed by a smile fighting itself to spread across your face, you ask, "You are my…?”

“Almost,” Leaning in as close as he can, Pandora whispers over your lips, “I love you very much, Winterberry. You are my eternal star.”

The smooth part of his face, that junction between his eyes and mouth, is smooshed against your nose. He’s so close that you can feel the cartilage in your nose beginning to bend. You know you won’t be leaving his embrace anytime soon. Smiling softly, you reach your hands down to stroke the knees now held up snug to your thighs.

That’s fine. It’s _better_ than fine, because there’s no place you would rather be. You seal that pact by running your hands up his thighs, along his sides where you take the time to fiddle with his chains, up his chest, until you’re cupping his face, closing your eyes as you tell him you love him once more, those three words wrapping around his tongue as it slips into your mouth.

 

He can become anybody with just a look. Upon his own arsenal, so graciously bestowed upon him by his lord, he possesses the almighty 42 supreme beings forms at will. Of course there are his others that remain to be seen, tricks up his sleeve should he require them.

Ah, but this. _This_. This is a sight to behold.

She is a sight to behold.

...and by his lords blessed collar bone is he unworthy. Not only does he now walk among gods, but here he is, interlaced in his dearly beloved's _true_ embrace.

Not in her ‘avatars’ arms as she once called herself. But her. Her true form is what he has been gifted with witness too and _meine gott!_ What a pretty sight is she.

Plush. Enveloping. Loving. Safe.

Pandora glides his tongue along every groove and curve of Holly’s mouth, committing the sensation to memory. Despite crossing worlds, would it surprise her to know that she tastes the same? That she tastes like a cloud that rains powdered sugar.

Slipping his tongue from her mouth to the hollow of her throat, he swears he can pick up on the scent of roses. A shiver of desire rocks him to his core. He does, ohhh he does! That intoxicating fragrance sends an urgency to his loins that drives a groan out from deep within him.

It is the smell he associates with love. And not just any love, mind you. _Their_ love, and the way they come together to make love.

He extends his tongue to weave and noose around her neck. Holly’s hands roam the smooth of his head in response as he lovingly constricts and works his tongue along her throat. Pure bliss. He inhales around his tongue to breathe her in, to have that much more of her, because in the dizzying high of his arousal he can feel her across time. 

Content with the flavors tickling his tongue, Pandora sits up. He rolls his shoulders and frees himself of his coat while his hands work at unbuttoning his uniform. He desperately wants to _feel_ the warmth of her against him. Holly’s delicate fingers follow suit, aiding him in the removal of his garb. The silver buttons pop out of their confinements and shine in the moonlight, but they pale in comparison to Holly’s emerald eyes. 

He could lose himself in her eyes. And for a moment? He does. His body stills as he stares at her, _into her._ His darlings eyes glisten before him, an infinite forest caught in her iris. It is no wonder that he is lost at the moment! Frozen, save for the hand he reaches towards her cheek. He dares not to speak, not right now, fearful that words may shatter her into a thousand pieces.

He almost lost her. 

Holly’s supple cheek fits perfectly into Pandora’s palm. Tenderly, he gives her a squeeze. She is real, ja? Certainly he is not alone in that field, cradling her empty body. Nein, he is here, more importantly she is here, she is safe, he will protect her, cherish her, love her and--!

The sound of her soft spoken voice breaks him of his trance. “What’s wrong?”

Unable to pull away from the warmth she provides, he continues to stroke her cheek as he sputters, “N-Nothing, I-I just, I just love you so very much, liebling, I..”

Holly presses a kiss to his thumb. His heart knocks around in his rib cage when she flashes him his favorite smile and confesses to him once again that she loves him too. Ah, truly those are the most beautiful words to him! He rests assured in the safety of her arms, now snaking around his neck and pulling him closer, that they are here together. Inseparable. Bound by something stronger than fate.

Resuming his mission in search of more of his love’s warmth, Pandora slips a hand beneath Holly’s shirt. It bunches up nicely beneath his palm. As he begins to work the material up the base of his spine shudders in anticipation. It is like he is unwrapping a present just for him, his gift being her creamy skin cuddled up oh so intimately against his torso.

Just as one of his fingers brush against her belly Holly tugs her shirt down. Pandora cocks his head to the side as she repeats this motion, seeming to…fight him in his endeavor? She has never done this before, how peculiar. He steals a peek of her expression and she sends him nothing more than a face painted red while her eyes blink away from his. Ahhh, niedlich. Perhaps she is bashful?

A thought strikes him that nearly has him chuckling in realization. But of course! He slides a hand to her plush hips, mapping out her curves. Just as he feels her relax beneath his gentle ministrations he darts his fingers to her middle and begins his assault. Holly’s tirade of giggles and pleas for mercy fill the room with bathematic soap bubbles as they fall on deaf ears. She kicks and squirms, but alas, nein, liebling! How could he _ever_ forget that his beloved is ticklish? 

Victory belongs to him as Holly relinquishes her blouse. His heart leaps with glee as her head pops out of her shirt and her hair spills around her like autumn leaves. Strands of her locks lay themselves across her breasts, whispers of hair thinly veiling her pebbled buds. _S-Schön_. Pandora’s tongue swipes along the circumference of his mouth as drool attempts to puddle out of him.

Fitting his hands against her now bare hips he gives her a squeeze. Pandora moans from his throat as his thumbs sink into her skin. Silk is what comes to mind as he explores her body. He takes his time as he admires her. Truly she is a work of art, proof before him in the freckles that dapple her breasts and spread across her stomach like a constellation of stars. Ribbons of bolts of lightning carve themselves around her belly. He trails a lone finger along the subtle tellings of a life lived and how they have marked her, shaped her, and all have brought her here to this place in time with him. 

His attention is brought back to the luxury of her bosom as Holly fills her lungs. Her chest rises and her breasts wobble so enticingly. Gently, he pinches one of her dusky nipples. The look she gifts him, teeth sunk into her lip, eyelids drooping, nostrils flaring as she sucks in a sharp bit of air, ah, that is ecstasy. She desires more, and _ohhh!_ He certainly has more. He has everything for her as he bows his head upon her other breast, saliva dribbling down his tongue as it forks and twirls around her stiffened bud.

Each sound she produces drops a pool of warmth into Pandora’s stomach. From her precious gasps up and to his favorite, her desperate mewls of sensitivity that he positively relishes. He pauses as her nails bite into his shoulder, her body beneath him writhing in the throes of pleasure as she tells him _it’s just too much_ ! _Pandora, I-I can’t, s-sensitive, ah!_

Tentatively, he flicks his tongue over her slick nipple once more. His blood sears hot as a crooked smile consumes Holly’s face. As expected the hand on his shoulder finds a way to his head as she purrs through a giggle, “...Keep going.”

Nevertheless it excites him to no end. Consumed with his task he continues to dote on her breasts as she tosses her head back and hisses. Lapping tongue and kneading hand trade places as he rolls her wet bud between his thumb and finger while slicking the other. _Das is gut, das is gutttt!_ He makes her feel this way, truly? To know that he is responsible for the dazzling sensations tickling through her body swells him with pride and infatuation.

Electricity zings through him as Holly bucks her hips up and into his own. Their groins kiss, and as her perfect heat greets his need he becomes _very_ aware of his own arousal. Reluctantly, he pulls away from Holly’s supple chest. An adoring whimper escapes him as he gazes upon the artistry of their passion. Her peachy skin is flush. Breasts glistening. Eyes a shade of green he does not believe he has seen before. 

As Holly scooches up and Pandora shifts for better things to come she pulls part of his jacket over her middle. Her cheeks brighten as Pandora audibly protests with a needy whine. Oh, what a cruel punishment! To be denied of such a gorgeous view. Surely if she is cold then she does not require his coat! She has the man himself, the owner of said wondrous apparel, and ahaha! Geliebte! He has _just_ the thing to keep her warm…

He keeps one hand near to her waist as the other persuades her away from his jacket. As his coat falls to the floor he thinks of how well her jeans will look strewn across it. Which brings him to his own pants that are tightly constricting his erection. The fabric is damp where his tip rests as it weeps in the sheer want of her. Holly makes a tender sound as Pandora brings his tongue to her mouth once again. He contours her cupids bow, returning to trail her lips in a silent plea for access to paradise. 

She grants his request by parting her lips. As she breathes he slips his tongue through to dance with hers. Leaning his forehead against Holly’s he tilts his head for better access as he pokes and prods at her tongue, darting around as she attempts to catch him. She giggles, and he can not help himself as his chest rumbles with a chuckle as well. She is quite precious. With a flick of her tongue she rushes past his and curiously surveys the hollow void that serves as his mouth. The curves of her lips pull down in a frown as she has nothing to explore. _Mhmhmh, du bist so verspielt, mein Schatz!_

Gasping, Holly yanks herself away from Pandora as something _does_ in fact wrap around her tongue. Her pupils are blown wild as Pandora slithers back two wriggling tongues of his own. He chuckles when her cheeks blossom and turn as red as apples. He dives back into her for another kiss. She moans so sweetly in response and it makes him feel like he his floating.

As they kiss Pandora reaches a hand down to pick at his belt. He is _dying_ to feel his length against that tender paunch of a belly Holly has to offer him. She is just so plush, and as he slips off his belt and works down his pants he wonders if she would allow him to paint her in his finish. The thought of her stomach canvassed in his release, hot threads splashed up and tickling just below her breasts hits him so hard in the cock that as he springs himself free his tip drools with a line of precum.

Gingerly, he gives his hips a roll and slicks his member along her stomach. A most wonderful catharsis floods him as he grinds against her creamy belly. Wherever his tip touches he leaves a kiss of his arousal. Toes curling, he breaks their kiss to whisper sweet nothings to Holly as he can not help but relinquish unto her how beautiful she makes him feel. How beautiful he wants to make _her_ feel.

Holly’s shoulders tighten as Pandora sets out to do exactly that. Bringing himself up he takes one of her hands into his. Lovingly, he pets at her palm. Her brows knit together as he places his hand, with hers, over the zipper to her jeans. He watches her with great interest as she gulps and swings a hand over her breasts in an effort to conceal herself. 

And now it is his turn to parrot her earlier inquiry. “Winterberry,” he soothes. “What is troubling you?”

Something in his heart falters as she glances away from him and turns her sights towards the ground. “Hair,” she shrugs a shoulder while pulling her other arm across her stomach. “I..I’ve, never shaved before. I’m _sorry_.”

“Is that all?” Pandora bites back the laughter in his tone as Holly shoots him a dirty look. What a ridiculous notion. Why would he ever be concerned with something as minuscule as body hair? Perhaps this is a cultural issue among these lands. How trivial. 

“Ah, vergib mir, my love! However...you humans are quite bizarre creatures.”

“ _I’m_ weird?” Holly raises a brow. “You, of all peopl--err, things, are telling me that _I’m_ weird?”

Pandora’s eyes arch as Holly barks out a laugh. “Yeah, _right._ ”

Holly’s lips curl into a smirk, and he takes delightful notice of how her front teeth nibble at her bottom lip. Niedlich. Pandora sighs as he begins to stroke his erection, pointing his broad tip towards his beloved. His voice stutters a bit as Holly relaxes and massages a thumb against his flushed head. “Mmm I-I, liebling, surely you must understand that a flawless gem is rather mundane! True craftsmanship is best viewed in the many inaccuracies of a jewel all made to appear as pur-purposeful,”

His breathing becomes labored as Holly wets her palm with his precum and takes over stroking him. He thrusts into her hand as he leans over her and hoarsely whispers, “Th-That is what, ah, defines quality. That is why you are _perfection_.”

He is putty in her sumptuous hands. His vision tunnels as he tucks his chin down, the pleasure coursing through him building a pressure in him that aches for release. It is with great restraint that he does not lose himself here and now. 

Quickly, he jerks his hips from her touch. His chest heaves as he pants, his stomach filling with butterflies as Holly palms his sternum. Does she know that his heart beats for her?

“I don’t have the pretty words you do, but…,” Holly’s eyelids hood as she coos, “I think you’re perfect, too.”

For the first time in his gifted life he does not possess a response. She, his beloved, his goddess, the physical manifestation of a walking dream, believes that he is...perfect? N-Nein! That is imp-impossible, he is just an area guardian, barely deserving of her to even _look_ at him let alone share such sacred feelings with him, and now, and yet..

He trembles as he mirrors pressing his palm upon her sternum. Her heart flutters like wild magic. His adams apple bobs as he struggles to swallow, answering her the only way he knows how. “I love you, Winterberry. I-I want to make love _with_ y-you.”

Leaving Pandora’s chest, Holly takes her hand and clasps it against his cheek. He nudges into her touch, a purr rattling in his throat as she pampers him with affection. 

Holly breaks the tender moment with one of her cherub like giggles. Her brows lift in a tease as she titters, “One word,” A pause. “Corny.”

As Holly sits up and wraps her arms around Pandora’s neck he returns her embrace and chains his arms around her waist. Nuzzling into the pocket of her neck and shoulder he deeply inhales her bouquet of roses and the pleasantries of lingering shampoo. An oily liquid rims his eyes as he holds her tighter. He may fail to comprehend how she could ever view him as a perfect being, however, he will concede to the notion that they are perfect together.  

Holly peppers a necklace of kisses around Pandora’s collar bone, each one of her loving embraces a fallen leaf from the great world tree. Heat pools in his abdomen as he moves his hands to her plush hips and guides her back down to a lying position. Her hair bounces to cascade over her shoulders as her head graces the pillow. She is surrounded by her thick bunches of hair, a halo of fire, and despite no longer possessing her arcana he still sees her as a Flamekeeper. 

Holly exchanges a conversation with him through her eyes as he ghosts a hand over her jeans. He nods in understanding of the trust she places in him. Pandora fits his palm over Holly’s mound, cupping her, his chest rumbling like thunder as he samples her warmth. It makes his knees weak. Looping his thumbs through her belt hoops after she unbuttons herself for him, Pandora wiggles Holly’s pants down. His cock twitches as she shimmies her hips to aid him in his ploy. 

All that stands before him now and burying himself in her tight heat is a pair of alluring black panties. A simple embroidery of lace decorates the seams while a petite bow rests at the crown of her outlined slit. The cotton fabric is darker around that flawless line and is all the permission he requires to bow his head and have a taste of her. 

He traces her slit along her underwear with a long swipe of his tongue. His head swims as he belts out a heady groan. _Mmm_ , she drips heaven. He glances up to her face and savors his favorite shade of pink saturating her cheeks as he gives her another languid lick. She darts her eyes away, and _ohhhh_ , liebling! Haha, how her modesty only furthers his excitement!

While her pants may have ended up elsewhere, he does take a moment to selfishly peer over the side of the bed and admire how her underwear now lay in his coat. Ah, that is but a meager nicety at the moment. The real treasure of the hour is how Holly’s teeth poke out through her bashful smile as she glides a hand across her sex.

She reveals herself in full to him. Pandora’s lengthy fingers gently scratch through her thistle of hair, and _mmm_ , it is all rather charming to him. With a thumb he draws one of her plump lips to the side and she blossoms like a rose for him. Everything is so pink and glistening. My, what a pretty pussy his beloved has.

Eagerly, he grasps his length and dips his tip between her lips. _Meine gott_ , every time she is so much more than he expects. She is just so inviting! His stomach swoops as he strokes himself along her channel, making certain to fully slick himself in her arousal. As he lays himself atop her he cuddles his forehead to hers. _Soon_ , he calms himself, soon they will be setting their love in motion! Holly kisses the space between his mouth and eyes. His heart beats faster as he works his hips in search of her entrance. His blood rushes as a melodious moan sneaks out from Holly’s throat. 

Pandora grunts as he is finding it rather difficult to slip into Holly. His cock throbs in the urgent want of melting into her. He raises his hips and with the aid of his hand surely he will locate that lovely tear drop and sink right in. Ah, that truly is his favorite part of their union (despite their grand finale, of course). How his head pops in always sends a delightful tingle down his spine.

Once he finds that tight heat though he begins to wedge himself inside of her. Clearly it is a struggle but he delights in the thrill of opening up the space within her. As he prods at her entrance, cock head just barely making any leeway, Holly squeezes her eyes shut and lets out a sharp gasp. One of her hands fly to his forearm where she fiercely grips him. He is glazed but for a moment in his pleasure until realization forces a gasp out of him as well.

Pandora’s world falls to his feet and then promptly slips on its axis. 

Holly’s eyes are a window to her soul, one he has gazed upon many times. Their conversation once more is silent, yet, is louder than any words either of them could dare to muster.

She is still pure. Untainted.

Everything about him, other than his pounding loins, softens. He swallows thickly as he searches for one of her hands. As their fingers intertwine, he asks, his heart skipping, “You...Y-You would give yourself unto me, again, this way? T-Truly, my love?”

The sand that fills time’s hourglass, Pandora is sure, has just transmuted itself into mud. Time slows as Holly blinks. Just as he moves to pull away from her entrance upon sensing her hesitation he feels the hand upon his forearm swing to the curve of his lower back. Holly’s eyelids droop as she gives his back a firm press and the tip of his cock pops into her. The sensation smacks Pandora’s spine like a carnival mallet as he shudders. Meanwhile, Holly grits her teeth as she grips him like a vice. She is so very tight and it is nearing painful to him, however, she is deliciously warm.

As far as he is concerned she is immaculate in design.

Lifting his head to get a better view of her, Pandora gazes at Holly as if she is the most incredible thing to grace this world. Because she is. As he looks upon her he thinks to himself of his fortune, what a lucky gentleman he truly is, because what man gets to partake of his love this way twice in one lifetime?

Holly’s eyes sparkle like the treasury’s vault as she displaces her wince with a soft smile, “I love you. I promised you all of me, didn’t I?” She halts to look around the room before offering a weary chuckle. “No matter uh...where we end up.”

Nostalgia overcomes him in a daze as Holly purses her lips. Her hands pantomime as she warns, “Just..take it easy. You’re, well, _ya know_..”

Pandora languidly saws his hips as he chuckles, “Accommodating? Well equipped? Able bodied?! Perhaps--”

“You’ve got a big dick.” 

“Mmm, Indeed.~” Pandora coos, sparks igniting across his body as he is engulfed by more of Holly’s wet heat. On a particularly hard breath as he continues to work himself into her he breathes, “I will proceed gently, liebling..”

As Holly tucks her chin down in focus of taking him in, Pandora times his breathing with hers. Nothing but long, tender strokes for his love. Every roll of his hips, however, seems to be a fight as he tries to get himself into her. Holly’s breathing hitches with every push. This...hm. _Perhaps_...Moving his hands to take purchase on her plump curves, Pandora changes his strategy. Instead of thrusting he simply guides Holly down his shaft, pulling her towards him. Her pained expressions lessen as they try out this method. All the way through him sliding into her he coaxes her with how beautiful she is, how wonderful she feels, how well she receives his manhood..

The view of her stretched wide around his girth as he sits nearly flush with her is intoxicating. As he sinks that last delicious inch into her he sighs in relief. Luxuriating in Holly’s warmth he gives pause for her to adjust in accommodating to all that he has throbbing inside of her. With the go ahead being a squeeze of her hand against his Pandora slips a bit of his cock out to set a pace they both can enjoy. Before he begins, however, he glances down to the vibrant strings of blood that adorn his length.

 _Ohhhh, geliebte._ Whimpering, Pandora reaches a finger down to map Holly’s stretched and slick lips. Whispers of red mixed with their excitement for one another coat her labia. Sentiment inflates his heart so much so that with every breath he takes he seems to choke around the wanton pulse of his heart. Is this why the color red is associated with passion? This hue he has only seen one other time. Their first time.

She truly has given him her all. 

That thought puts his tongue across her lips as he pleads with her once for access to her little slice of heaven. Pandora moans hotly. He _has_ to kiss her! Tilting her head back, Holly parts her lips and flicks her tongue across Pandora’s. With permission granted he delves his tongue into her mouth at the same tempo that he strokes into her. Purposeful, but slow as to not injure his darling.

Another low groan falls out of Pandora, this one long as Holly further parts and lifts her legs. As her ankles cross over his back Pandora grips at her waist. He widens his stance as he adjusts his knees before tilting Holly’s hips up. His fingers dig into her creamy skin as this angle heightens his awareness of a building climax that’s beginning to struggle at the base of his spine.

He can not resist picking up the pace. Not with how incredible he is feeling, or how Holly’s juicy pussy strokes along the underside of his cock just right. Mixed with the chorus of vibrations against his tongue as Holly whines in mirth it all starts to goad him into his finish. 

However, he is at odds with himself. Even as he rides that line between giving in and pounding his claim into her he is quite hesitant to do so. Once he reaches that point he is well aware of the fact that he will lose himself in her. How could he ever deny such a lovely dame?! She knows just how to take him past that point of no return. It is equally splendid and frustrating to him. Why can he not stay in this moment of ecstasy with her forever? Their private eternity. 

Alas, as he suspects, she is indeed too much for him! Holly’s heavenly grip on Pandora’s length tightens considerably as the pain from losing her virginity in this form subsides. A familiar whimsical giggling, one he knows well enough by now, compliments the clapping of their hips. It is the sounds of his love and how wondrously she takes her pleasure, and it is nothing short of a symphony to him. 

He is helpless to her once she begins bucking her hips in rhythm with his. It catches his breath in his throat. She meets him stroke for delicious stroke and _mmm_ , _Winterberry_! I-It is simply criminal that she feels this good! His fingers tent as his vision begins to blur. He is dizzy as his glorious end begins to rush and fog his mind.

Pandora’s thrusts grow horrendously sloppy. His tongue flicks frantically about her mouth with no destination. The pace they had set moments ago is utterly lost as he tugs Holly down onto his cock with every slap of his hips into hers. She nurses his length _perfectly_. His world cuts to white noise and all he feels is pleasure as his release makes ready to punch out of him. He seethes as his crest begins to peak.

Just as his cock starts to twitch and sputter Holly’s voice rings clear as day even though she speaks just a hair above a whisper. “That’s right," she purrs around his tongue, “Cum for me..”

Pandora tears away from Holly’s mouth and digs his face against her shoulder to muffle himself as he cries out. His climax completely consumes him as his hips jerk relentlessly into Holly’s. As he rides his high, thrusting wildly with every twitch and spurt, he swears that it feels like she goes on forever.

His labored breathing eases as he calms into the limbo of his afterglow. As Pandora attempts to lift himself up his limbs feel like they are caught in quicksand. His body betrays him as he attempts once more to raise his head and he does nothing more than grunt in his exhaustion. Holly sighs beneath him before pressing a kiss to his temple. 

Knowing that he will need to pull out soon, Pandora keeps his hips flush to Holly’s until that time arrives. He does not want to leave her warmth. Not just yet. The quiet of their intimacy is everything to him in this moment, especially as he realizes that his Ring of Sustenance is not functioning as it should. A pang of guilt stabs at his heart as he begins to succumb. Even with his magic depleted he should not be experiencing this level of fatigue..

Nevertheless his mind is glossed over, taking him somewhere between consciousness and slumber. He mumbles to Holly, hoping that his words of devotion are coherent despite the mix mash of languages. How this world has affected the rest of his abilities remains to be seen, however, this is but a trivial price to pay to be here with her. No price is too high for his love. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Your alarm clock ticks as the hour shifts to 2am.

Rolling your head to the side you find yourself peeking through your window blinds. A cold humidity clings to the window pane as perspiration dots the glass. Cradling Pandora’s head in the hook of your arm you carefully, oh so carefully persuade him to your chest. He makes a tender sound as his head lulls to the side, cheek nestled against one of your breasts.

So as not to disturb him you wait to move any further until you are sure he has settled. Predictable breathing from the way his shoulders subtly rise and fall lets you know that he is at peace. You do not want to wake him. He needs some rest, and if you remember right it was coming about that time for him anyways. You have gotten onto him before about abusing his Ring of Sustenance, he will spin like a top for days on end on the damn thing. 

You squeak a thumb across your windowpane. Clouds pregnant with smog drift across the night. A haze hangs in the air. Off in the distance the sounds of traffic and a city teeming with life toil away. Winking at you through passing clouds twin stars take turns in their lullaby like undulation. 

You exhale and the warmth from your breath fogs your window. This has all been so much so fast, right? With heavy eyelids you turn your attention back to a slumbering Pandora. Crazy bastard. You do not know what the future holds, but as you let sleep take you, you know it’s going to be okay. He’ll be there when you wake up in the morning.

 

 

* * *

 

🎇💙 Thank you for your Kudos, Bookmarks, and Comments! 💙🎇 

 

 

[Tumblr](https://download077.tumblr.com/)

[Deviantart](https://www.deviantart.com/download077)

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy CRAP that was a ride! I hope you all enjoyed this AU to Chapter 45 of COJ as much as I did. I laughed, I cried, I was anxious, I pretty much went through a rainbow of emotions creating this. 
> 
> I have been sitting on this nugget since early February. However I wanted to earn this and in order for it to have weight in my opinion I had to get where I'm at in COJ before I could write this. This is a massive payoff for me and I don't mean to brag but oh well, here we are. I'm proud of myself for getting this done. 
> 
> Authors note for Author to look back on - No. No. NO. You can not turn this into it's own story WORK ON YOUR OTHER ONES DAMN IT. 
> 
> Inspired by my Biffle Kensalyn, the author of Real life on the seventh floor. And shame on you if you have not read her story yet. Seriously. I think I need a permanent inspired by tag for her. Her writing makes me want to write and be a better writer. 💙


	17. Steel thread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A SFW One shot featuring Kawaii-Pigeon's Original character [The Profaned Mistress/Dez!](https://www.deviantart.com/kawaii-pigeon/art/Profaned-mistress-DEZ-811542105)
> 
> Written as an art trade. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤 OC Reader/Sebas.

 

**✨  Jörmungandr's Chosen✨ **

~ Steel Thread ~

One shot

 

 

 

 

Set beside a drafting table with monochromatic spools of yarn rests a loom. Silver glints from the drive wheel as it hums in rotation, the wood creaking as you work the pedal. Light pours from a chandelier that glitters like a sun in a bird cage. The pleasing scents of chamomile and honey waft through the air just in time for a knock to greet your door. Always three, ever polite, and the sound never fails to pull your lips up into a smile.

Setting aside your project you do a quick once over of yourself. Hair out of your face, pat down your clothes to free them of any wrinkles, quick smell of your breath, and okay. Okay, you’ve got this. No big deal, right? Never mind that Nazarick’s butler of steel is behind your door. S-surely it is of no concern that you also happen to have a serious crush on him. Your heart definitely is absolutely _not_ leaping as you slip a bobby pin out of your hair to unlock your door.

No big deal, right?

Push, twist, wiggle, _ca-chink!_ Okay, left, up, a slide along this toothed groove, a sharp right, and _ca-chink_ ! Arcane letters ignite in a ring of teal around your door knob as it unlocks. A final mechanical clunk _thuds_ as you slip your bobby pin back into your hair. On a long drawl to fill your lungs you press your door forward.

“Good afternoon, My Lady,” Sebas dips his head into a bow, “My sincerest apologies for keeping you waiting.”

“Oh no, please, I don’t mind. You weren’t keeping me waiting at all,” You pause as Sebas presents you with a silver plate adorned with petite desserts and a tea set. Swallowing thickly you know this is the moment of truth. Never before have you invited him in, you have always wanted too, but something has held you back. That something has been you. You have held you back ...and you are not going to let that happen again. Not today.

“...You wouldn’t want to stay awhile, would you? I mean, I do understand if you don’t want too, I respect and appreciate all that you do around the Tomb, I was just thinking…” 

Sebas waits for you to finish before allowing himself to chuckle warmly, “I would be honored to join you, My Lady.”

Relief washes over you as you make your way back inside with Sebas. That was...a lot easier than expected. As Sebas prepares two cups of tea you take your seat, laying your tail in your lap. Running fingers through your fur, you wonder, what does he like to talk about? He is rather elusive, you would love to know more about him. Really? You just want to spend actual time with him. Something more than what Nazarick needs.

With the Slane Theocracy under control, the issue of gold handled, and the twins enrolled in a school for dark elves, Nazarick has been thriving. Demiurge and Albedo handle any and all diplomatic urgencies while Pandora’s Actor manages the tombs finances. Nazarick has more than what it needs. Momonga...Momonga would have been proud.

“Thank you,” Sebas presents you with your tea along with a saucer and three lumps of sugar. Wetting your lips you blow the steam from your cup before taking a sip. Chamomile kisses your tongue while honey warms your throat. It is nice.

“No sugar?” Sebas asks as he takes his seat.

“No,” Giggling as your cheeks flush, you admit, “Not yet, at least. I like to enjoy the flavor of my tea before I add in my sugar. That way I can know just the right amount to include.”

You wave steam up to your nose and your eyelids flutter. After splashing two cubes of sugar into your tea you take another sip and hum with approval. The sugar helps to elevate the flavors instead of stifling them.

“Very well,” Sebas sips his tea before lumping in two cubes of sugar. As he stirs his spoon occasionally _plinks!_ against the side of his cup. “It is an art, I believe. There is a finesse to balancing fragrance and taste all while keeping the integrity of the brew intact,” Sebas’s eyes light up as he takes a sip, “You undoubtedly have a refined understanding of said art. However, that is to be expected coming from the Profaned Mistress.” 

You take a long sip off of your tea as if the cup in your hands could hide your brightening cheeks. Flattery is of great abundance in Nazarick towards you, naturally. Yet, with Sebas, it always comes across so genuine. So warm. _So calm._

“If I may?” Sebas gestures towards your loom. “I see that tea is not the only art you dabble in.”

“Oh, that? Oh, I…,” You rub at the back of your neck. “You are correct.”

As Sebas bows his head in acknowledgement you feel the conversation begin to slip. Slip through your fingers like a sewing needle that bounces off where you will never find it again. You bite your lip.

Your face grows warm as you ask entirely to fast, “Do you happen to sew?”

The corners of Sebas’s lips twitch into a smile. “In fact I do, My Lady. Why, I keep a kit on me at all times.”

Sebas reaches below his handkerchief and retrieves a clear plastic container. Inside rests a thimble, tiny needle, scissors, and appropriately sized spools of yarn. “I have found it best to keep one on my person. On more than one occasion the maids have required assistance with their uniforms after catching them on the corners of the Staff Canteens tables.”

You toss a hand up to your mouth to cover your laughing, “Oh my god, you know, one time? Entoma split one of her sleeves all the way up to her elbow. I guess she was spinning one of her webs on the third floor, slipped, and caught her sleeve on the wall.”

Sebas chuckles as he sets his tea down. As he crosses one leg over the other he leans forward, “By chance, is that the day she was wearing a pair of pajamas over her usual outfit?”

You dance your hooves as you lose yourself in a fit of laughter, “You saw?! Ahhh! Yeah, that was it! The pajamas with the little ducks on them?! She was so adorable!”

“I agree, My Lady. She was quite charming that day,” as Sebas looks up in thought you steal the chance to admire how sharp his facial features are. Well, really, how all of him is.  Everything about this man from his jaw to how his suit sits crisp on his shoulders paints a picture. No, Sebas was not simply made by Touch-Me. He was carved from a mountain by a god.

Sebas taps a finger against his lips as he hums, “Hmm. It is almost as if they were made for her..”

Oh no! Time to stop daydreaming. He can _not_ find out about the other pajamas you have made! As your face twists into a panic you dart your eyes away. Blood rushing you find it best to change the subject, “S-So, what uh, thread do you use? I-I sometimes like to use rayon with silk, but more often than not I lean towards cotton or n-nylon.”

Sebas fits his chin in between his thumb and index finger as he muses, “All have their benefits, as you know. My personal preference, however? I find that metals are most durable.”

“At the cost of their price, unless you use the metallic kind. Even then, most of those are just a blend of cotton, silk, or polyester,” You sigh.

“My Lady, should you wish to use metals in your craft I assure you that no price is too high for you. I will see to it personally that you are properly gifted with appropriate materials.”

“Oh, I, uh, that’s not necessary, but…,” Flicking the head of your tail you pause. “..But I do really appreciate that. Um, so, what metal do you use? I mean, I wouldn’t mind using metal, It’s just that I never have before.”

A wince hits your lips before you can stop the involuntary reaction. You really hope he does not think less of you for that. Back home, although sewing was a must, any thread above cotton was scarce. Times were difficult so more often than not if you grew out of your clothes? You had to make them fit. No one was going to buy you anything new, that was out of the question, nor were they going to teach you how to sew. It was a coveted craft, after all. One that was either traded for, bought, or luckily passed on from a family member. 

You were not so lucky.

So, you taught yourself. Learning through all the callouses, pin pricks, and thread that just would not fit through the eye of the needle. However, this of course left you with only the bare minimum of knowledge on the craft. Sure, yes, you adopted the technique, but that only applies to the basic materials.

Ears twitching as you face the floor you find your chest aching. This is silly, but..why does it hurt? Surely Sebas does not care, but the thought of disappointing him? It draws a pit in your stomach that threatens to swallow you whole.

The smooth staccato of Seba’s voice lifts your eyes back up to him as he asks, “May I show you, My Lady?”

You nod your head. That pit in your stomach caves in on itself. Butterflies sing while they flood into your chest cavity as Sebas kneels before you. He lifts his arm up, adjusting his glove. Seemingly satisfied with his grooming he pops the button out of the cufflink upon his wrist. He rolls down his sleeve. Your breathe is stolen in a gasp as flecks of silver leap across your eyes.

Reaching a curious hand towards his wrist you stop just before brushing a finger against him. Your heart jerks into a skipped beat as your eyes meet his. 

“I-I’m so-”

“It is quite alright,” Sebas guides your hand to his wrist, “Please, do not apologize.”

“I-I had no idea..,” Gingerly, you press a finger against the many glittering plates that travel up Sebas’s arm. Mapping out the oval edges you find a dip at each of their peaks, followed by a line etched through their middle. They shine like wet pearls and as you tilt his wrist from side to side they glint and cast a glare across your chandelier. 

Sebas chuckles, “Most indeed are unaware. However, it is a secret that I am privileged to share with you.”

Your tail twitches in your lap as you restrain a wag, “Um,” You pause as you fit your thumb between two of his scales. Lifting carefully, you bend one forward only for it to snap right back into place. You giggle. “They’re really pretty. Thank you, I uh..”

You lose your words, well, that is not entirely true. You did not have anymore, but that is quite alright. Your heart might be thudding in your chest like a war drum, but Sebas, just by being himself, has a way of making you feel safe. You wish through all the time that has gone by that you would have invited him in sooner.

But you have now, and as you look up to see him softly smiling? You know, that you _two_ , have later.

“Steel,” Sebas whispers before clearing his throat, “To answer your question, My Lady, I use steel.”

Sebas pinches two fingers around one of his scales. Your eyes widen as he plucks the scale from his wrist and a new one grows to replace it. “It is an urban myth that dragon scales are unyielding and only suited for armor or the occasional weapon. In fact, they are quite pliable,” Pulling on either of its sides Sebas works the scale until it is stretched into a thin line of silver, “Like copper, dragon scales can be drawn into a wire. If one takes the time to temper said wire--”

On a breathy gasp you interrupt, “It can be used as thread!”

Sebas nods his head, “You are correct, My Lady.”  

As Sebas lays the silver twine across your palms you turn to face your loom. Glancing between the glinting thread and your loom your body grows warm with a thought. You feel as if you are floating by the time you look back to Sebas.

“Would you, um, show me how to use it? The project I’m working on has a lot of monochromatic hues, and, and I, well, I think it’d look really beautiful with some of your--”

Sebas stands. As he offers you his hand, smoothing his thumb over your palm as you place your hand in his, he dips his head in a bow, “I do not believe there is any time better spent than the time I am privileged to spend with you,” Sebas pauses as he allows a full smile to take him.

“It would be my honor, My Lady.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

🎇💙 Thank you for your Kudos, Bookmarks, and Comments! 💙🎇 

 

 

[Tumblr](https://download077.tumblr.com/)

[Deviantart](https://www.deviantart.com/download077)

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wholesome Sebas time? _Wholesome Sebas time._
> 
> Me - Hey, Kensalyn, can you read this over for me and make sure that Sebas feels in character? 
> 
> Kensalyn, reading the part where Sebas guides Dez's hand back to his wrist - "It's okay, My Lady, _Touch Me._ " 
> 
> [The Profaned Mistress/Dez!](https://www.deviantart.com/kawaii-pigeon/art/Profaned-mistress-DEZ-811542105)


End file.
